


Jack in the Box

by ScarletLetters



Category: Arkham Asylum (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Harley Quinn (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Arkham Asylum, Chaos, Character Development, Dark, F/M, Fear, Gotham City - Freeform, Horror, Insanity, Jared Leto's Joker, Love/Hate, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Metropolis, Murderers, Past Child Abuse, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Suicide Squad Joker, Superheroes, Supervillains, Torture, non-canon plotline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletLetters/pseuds/ScarletLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harleen Frances Quinzel recently moved to Gotham from Metropolis in search of the criminally insane to study for her work as a psychiatrist. Superman is a tyrannical hero in Metropolis who leaves nothing left of villains for doctors to study. So Harleen lands a job at the infamous Arkham Asylum as a psychiatric intern to further her studies on the insane. As she get comfortable in her assignment in Block J, the 10th floor and highest security, she meets Jackson Gregory Boxam, aka, The Joker, and becomes singularly obsessed with his mental well-being, and with him. </p>
<p>Non-Canon story-line, which means there is no abuse yet in their relationship because this is the start of their relationship; writing this purely for my own entertainment because I despise the relationship that Joker and Harley have as of today. This is my own opinion on how I wish it would've gone. Jared Leto is my base/inspiration for The Joker. Enjoy! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jackson Gregory Boxam

**Author's Note:**

> Throw me a kudos if you like it and I'll keep it up! :)

It was raining in Gotham, and Harleen didn’t have an umbrella. She ran out of her apartment building into the dark, wet street and hailed a cab. Instead of stopping for her, it drove past, soaking her with a puddle for good measure. 

“Lovely,” she muttered. She was too excited to be angry anyway. After waiting in the downpour for another few minutes a cab came and thankfully pulled up beside her. She hopped in and shook her blond hair out from the peak it had become along her back. 

“Arkham Asylum, please,” she told the cabbie, checking in her pocket-mirror to see if her makeup had survived the rain. It hadn’t. Cursing now, she pulled out her mascara from her purse and touched up what she could on the bumpy road that left town. 

“You visiting someone, Miss?” the cabbie asked, peeking at her in his rear view mirror with small brown eyes. 

“No, actually, I’m starting today as a psychiatrist. I just moved here from Metropolis,” she smiled at his and resumed her attempt to salvage her face. 

“A psychiatrist at _Arkham?_ Good grief miss, with all due respect, run while you still can,” he laughed, shaking his head. As he did the vent caught his sweaty neck and blew putrid smelling air back at Harleen. She almost gagged on it. 

“Run?” she laughed herself, opening her mouth to get at her bottom lashes better. “I’m a doctor, not a pussy.” 

“Be that as it may, you got one of those between your legs. Just watch yourself out there ma’am,” he turned his eyes back to the road, and Harleen shook her head. 

Truth be told, she knew what happened in Gotham; that was part of the reason she had left Metropolis, nothing exciting really ever happened there. And when it did Superman shut it down faster than she could cross the street to get a better view. And he didn’t leave any leftovers for her and the other doctors to pick at. 

Batman on the other hand, with his opposition to murdering the people that murdered the civilians, was what drove her to Gotham. She got to work in one of the most renowned insane asylums in the country, and got a show when they escaped to wreak their havoc on the city. She wasn’t terribly afraid of being hurt, Gotham was a huge city, and most of them didn’t kill civilians. They went after mayors or politicians or D.A.'s, not psychiatrists that were fascinated with them. If anything Harleen would be excited about being kidnapped by some supervillain. And the 30 seconds of fame wouldn’t be too terrible either. 

She snapped her compact shut and bounced in her seat as they left the outskirts of town, driving into the rolling black hills dotted with spruce trees and white birches that glittered in the headlights. She twisted around in her seat to see if there was a good place that she could go to get a view in the city of the country surrounding it, and noted a few skyscrapers that looked close to where she lived. Then they turned a corner around a hill and the city was just light pollution in the infinitely cloudy sky. 

She wondered what they would do if it was always sunny in Gotham, without clouds in the sky 24/7, what would they splat the Bat-Signal on when they needed Ser Batman? Maybe they would invest in something like a dog whistle, bats had good hearing, right? 

“Here, ma’am,” the cab driver said loudly, probably not for the first time. She had a habit of losing herself in herself. Imagination was a huge part of her job anyway. Without imagination how can you counsel someone you can’t understand? 

She handed him a bill and hopped out into the rain. Jogging up the steps, she fumbled for her key card, dropped it, picked it up and slapped it against the black box beside the door. It clicked open and she dove inside out of the rain, wondering what kind of building in a city such as Gotham didn’t have a rain guard over their door. She wanted to shake like a dog, but was too captivated with the lobby. 

She had already had a tour of the building of course, but the architecture continued to impressed her. The windows at the back of the building were all stained glass that looked out over a bunch of razor-wire fencing and concrete. _Ironic._ The floors were marble, with captivating designs carved into them, and the wood a dark mahogany so rich Harleen felt like she could smell it. The name of the building, The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, was poised in glass letters above an overhang that cuddled the front desk. There was also a disturbing number of assorted heads on the wall. A goat, several bucks, a swan, a bull, and about six others that she didn't care to have added to her nightmares. 

She clacked her way across the lobby to the desk, where a fat security guard sleeping with a donut in his hand sat behind several computer monitors. The faint thrum of computers was the only sound. 

She cleared her throat and the guard jumped, reaching for his gun. Harleen didn’t bother flinching, she doubted the man had ever fired that gun off in this building. Maybe if he did once in a while the criminally insane would stop escaping on an almost monthly basis. 

“Harleen Quinzel,” she introduced herself, shaking his meaty hand with her own tiny one. “I’m the new psychiatric intern in Block J,” she smiled at his incredulous look. Block J was the most infamous; the highest security wing, where the maddest of the baddest went. She was lucky, as an intern, that they had agreed to give her that wing. 

She raised her eyebrows at him while walking over to the security gate blocking the elevator, and yanked it open with a screech when she heard the lock release. She made her way down the white walled hallway into the white elevator, pressing 10 and taking a deep breath. When it dinged open she stepped out into another white hallway and dropped her lunch bag off to the kitchen, then hunted down the Charge Nurse. 

She found her after a good ten minutes of looking, peeking into a barred room where a patient was strapped to a chair with a mask that was part muzzle covering most of his face. They were just doing up the last leg restraints when Harleen buzzed herself in to the room. 

“Hi, I’m Harleen Quinzel, the new psychiatric intern,” she extended her hand, but the nurse barely looked up at her. She was about to repeat herself when the nurse turned. 

“Lovely to meet you my dear,” she shook her hand; or more like her finger she grabbed it so quickly. “I apologize I don’t have time to babysit today, I trust you had your orientation already with Jeremiah?” she nodded at Harleen’s nod. Her orientation with Jeremiah had gone wonderfully, though she had done it after the afternoon pill pass, which meant everyone was over-medicated and quiet. This was altogether a different experience, one that she hoped she might be able to prolong. “Good, Joan is waiting for you in the Common Room, she may or may not still be with Harvey,” the nurse turned back around and bent over the patient, who was staring at Harleen like the fresh meat that she was. 

She turned out of the room and made her way further into the wing, nearly skipping down the hallway. She hoped the old nurse meant Harvey Dent, aka Two-Face. He was one of the most infamous supervillains in Gotham, and she might get to meet him. 

“Best first day ever!” she whispered to herself, smiling to a few stone-faced security guards she ran into. She passed the Residences, which were essentially hallways of cells that had walls thicker than a bank vault. She peered down the brightly lit hallway and damn near jumped out of her skin as a guard popped up from nowhere and glared back at her. Startled, she made the rest of the trip to the Common Room quickly and showed her ID badge to the guards outside of the door. They nodded and opened the door for her. 

The room was just like the others, but a little mustier from the old-looking straitjackets piled on the cement floor and black barred windows that never opened. The florescent lighting was so severe it gave the entire room an operating room out of hell feel. 

She scanned and saw who must be Joan Leland sitting across from a man with dark hair and downcast eyes. She waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt a session in progress and took a seat at one of the many long tables. She loved it here already and hadn't met a single patient. There was one that she was particularly interested in studying, his name was Jackson Gregory Boxam, the Joker. He was famously insane, and was the envy of all the doctors in Metropolis. Everyone wanted to pick at his ridiculously fascinating brain and be the one to diagnose the Clown Prince of Crime. She didn't want to let Joan in on how interested she was in the man though, for fear that she'd call it a conflict of interest and keep her away. 

Ten or so minutes later some chairs scraped and the two of them stood, with Joan giving the man a hug and the guards advancing to cuff the man. As they turned to escort him to his cell, he showed the other half of his face; burned away. _It’s Harvey!_

She was so excited she almost squealed, until she remembered herself and just settled on grinning at the monster. He looked up enough to give her a cautious look, then furrowed his brow and returned to his staring contest with the floor. She watched him until he left the room and she couldn’t see him anymore, and turned to jump at Joan standing right beside her. 

“Harleen, right?” the doctor asked, extending a hand to shake it. 

Harleen cleared her throat and shook her hand. “Yeah hi, its nice to finally meet you,” she laughed nervously. 

“How was the weather on your way out?” she turned to look at the black windows, which you couldn’t see anything through. 

“It’s raining pretty bad, which is why I look like a drowned rat,” she laughed and shook out her tangled hair self-consciously. 

“Nonsense, my goodness, you’re going to rile up the crazies with all that pretty,” she smirked and motioned for Harleen to follow her. “You had your orientation with Jeremiah yeah?” 

“Yeah I did, he was very informative.” 

Joan laughed, “Mr. Arkham is a lot of things, but I’ve never heard anyone call him informative,” she shook her head and led Harleen out of the Common Room from a different door than Harvey left from. She tucked a lock of damp blond hair behind her ear and followed Joan down a hallway to a report room with walls lined in charts. Before Joan could even tell her not to she was pulling charts off the shelves and rifling through them. 

Joan laughed and waved her along, “No sense stopping you now, I can tell a passionate doctor when I see one.” 

Harleen sat at the oval table in the middle of the room and flicked on a lamp beside her, scanning the page. 

“That’s Dr. Jonathan Crane, or Scarecrow as the Batman fanatics call him.” 

Harleen knew him, the psychiatrist-turned-supervillain and used his expertise in pharmacology to create toxins using psilocybin and anti-psychotics to make its victims see their worst fears come to life. He was infamous in medical school. She read his backstory for a few more minutes, then closed the binder and put it back, running her red nails along the others. 

One caught her eye, _Boxam, Jackson Gregory_. She was reaching to pull it off the shelf when Joan flicked the lights off and turned a projector on. 

“Come sit Harleen, I need to give my own orientation and review the existing patients to you,” she waved her hand towards a chair, and Harleen sat, spending the next while memorizing and note taking on the non-famous patients that had certain medication reviews coming up, who she was responsible to reporting to, what the emergency plans were for violent episodes, and so on. 

“Harvey Dent,” Joan said, and a picture of him popped up on the screen. _Finally the celebs._

He was dark haired and quite handsome, other than the horrific burns on the side of his face where he got an acid bath. Harleen was picturing the chaos he had wreaked when he was first injured and diagnosed as a schizoid. He had broken free of the hospital and killed three officers on live television before he slipped away. 

“Floyd Lawton,” she was onto the next one. She knew this one too, Deadshot. He was dark skinned and had eyes that shone from his face. He was actually quite mentally stable compared to his roomies. This one had attempted to blow up a class of kindergarten children. He was stopped, but the children grew up to show signs of PTSD and never fully recovered. He was never caught after the threats and lived low-key for a while as a contract killer, leaving calling cards like so many of them did. 

“Pamela Isley,” Poison Ivy. Red haired, green eyed and drop dead gorgeous. She was one of Harleen’s personal favorites; constantly tempting Batman with kisses of poison and antidotes, most of her plots were aimed at conserving endangered plant and human life. She had borderline superpowers with her knowledge of plants and psychology and had humiliated many of the male villains in the facility that had tried and failed to coerce her into joining them, or fucking them. 

Joan read her mind and introduced Edward Nigma as the next patient, also known as The Riddler. Skinny, blue-eyed; all in all a geek. He loved riddles and games, and infuriated Batman to no end by forcing him to solve puzzles to find out where hostages were or how to free them. He had manipulated Ivy once and infuriated her enough that the woman had beaten him and broken his spirit along with twenty bones. 

“Jackson Gregory Boxam,” Joan turned to her to make sure she was still listening, and Harleen motioned her to continue. His picture popped up on the screen and Harleen knew she had to meet him. His skin was pale white, but not pasty, smooth like porcelain; dark green hair, faded from lack of dye, with shiny black roots bleeding in; his eyes were a stunning sky blue, sunken in his face, but he had a straight nose and a strong jawline, and she smiled as she pictured those lips talking to her. _What a babe_. She had always loved the bad boys, the ones her mother warned her about and would smoke cigarettes and take her to a back road in his fast car in the middle of the night. She just needed the confidence to act on her feelings. Probably why she was still a virgin. 

She had her own notions about Jack, who went by The Joker, but the television crews were mainly too scared of him to interfere much. He had shot and killed no less than forty reporters, who infuriated him when they got in the way. Clearly he was infamous for being extremely unstable. “He shows signs of paranoid schizophrenia, though displays none of the negatives effects, for example his enjoyment from crimes and his motivation to commit them contend with that diagnosis. His motives for committing crimes is still a mystery to us, and the only lead we have on his past is the name he provided to us, which we believe to be a creation of his imagination. He has a contested diagnosis of psychosis, having had confirmed isolated periods of it. His mind is a strange one, and one that I think you will very much enjoy studying, Harleen. Which is why I’m giving you him as your first patient,” she nodded at his chart on the wall behind Harleen, which she snatched up as fast as she could. She could have done a backflip. 

“When can I meet him?” she asked, flipping through the expansive notes left by his previous psychiatrist and doing happy little dances in her head. She was almost bouncing from excitement. 

“Today if you wish, we can restrain him far enough that he can’t even sneeze, and have someone there that can intervene if you want. He can be quite unstable with new people. We are still in the dark about how he reacts to certain things.” 

“I don’t need someone there to babysit me,” she muttered, still eyes down. 

“Suit yourself, I’ll take you to his cell myself so I can observe the initial introduction. I can brief you on our way down to him, come,” she turned off the projector and Harleen stood with her binder, turning on the lamp because who wants to be in the dark in an insane asylum. 

They left the room and walked down the hallway to the Residences. 

“I’ll tell you now, call him The Joker or Jay, not Jackson or Jack, he. . . dislikes that. We think it may be an alternate personality that he’s created and has issues with. And make sure you’re careful of what subject you let him broach, that is if you even want him to be able to talk to you,” she looked at Harleen. 

“Of course I want him to talk, I’m very excited to hear what he has to say,” she was walking faster than Joan so she slowed her roll a bit. 

Joan gave her a look. “You love your work don’t you?” 

“You have no idea.” 

“Well, good then. Maybe you’ll last longer than a week with him.” 

She didn’t have a reply to that. 

They arrived at the Residences and the guards opened the hugely thick double doors for them with a glance at Joan. “He home?” she asked the blond guard to her left. Harleen noticed there were steel rods inside the doors that could latch together to secure them even further. It was like something out of a movie. 

“Yeah he’s home,” the guard chuckled and led them down the hallway. Harleen almost asked how he knew who they were after, when she realized that the doors lining the walls were open, and there were six heavily armored guards sitting in each one watching monitors. There were six rooms. Almost forty guards; she felt her fingertips tingling. 

“Are all patients guarded this heavily?” she whispered to Joan. 

The woman just turned and smiled at her. _No then_. 

At the end of the hall was a black metal door that _clicked_ and _clanked_ as she watched a guard in a room beside her flick switches and press buttons in a sequence. The door swung open like a bank vault, to lead into another bright white room. A huge square cell was in the center of the room, surrounding by even more gun-toting guards. 

“Good god,” she whispered to herself, hugging the binder to her chest and feeling vulnerable. 

Joan nodded to someone above them and a blinding light shone at the barred cell. 

A man was laying on the cement floor, sprawled out on his back with his palms to the ceiling. 

“Jay!” Joan yelled, advancing towards the cell. Now that they were actually here, Harleen could feel her excitement turning into fear. She followed anyways. 

The man sprung up from the floor so fast she wondered how he didn’t fly right through the roof. He had no shirt and white pants on, and tattoos of a crazy variety covered his muscular chest and arms. He rushed the bars towards Joan and slapped his hands around them, jerking violently. 

“Joanie! You fuckin' cunt, how’re you!?” The language was so unexpected that Harleen almost giggled, but she swallowed her mirth, remembering what Joan had said about being unpredictable and that this was her first test. _Keep it professional._

“Watch the language, you lout, there’s a lady here I want you to meet,” Joan said, stepping to the side and looking at her. 

The Joker slid his blue eyes towards her like a lizard would slide its tongue around its mouth, and leered at her. The smile fell off his face at her white lab coat and matted blond hair. “Another fucking doctor?” he cackled and Harleen felt the hair on her arms stand on end. She wondered how many people had heard that right before they never heard anything ever again. “Did I teach Arkham nothing about how I feel about fucking _therapists?_ ” he rolled his head back and twisted it to the side in an almost grotesque gesture. “Well, I wouldn’t mind fucking this therapist,” he muttered to her, raising an eyebrow and biting his lip with silver teeth. 

She blushed. “My name is Harleen Quinzel, I’ve been excited to meet you,” she said, finding her voice and almost stepping forward to shake his hand before she remembered herself. 

“What a pretty name! Do your friends call you Harley?" he asked, face pressed up against the bars. 

"Oh. . . uh no. I don't have many friends," she whispered, beginning to understand Joan's warning. 

"Well, Harley, you got one now," he smiled at her with those silver teeth, and Harleen found herself with butterflies in her stomach. _A friend_."My apologies, Harley, for my rudeness. There is very little beauty in here and yours is shocking, please, accept my deepest apologies,” he looked at her, with no hint of sarcasm in his voice; just a small smile. “Very pretty name, though. Matches the face. . . lovely,” he tilted his head to the side as he analyzed her, letting a smile spread across his face. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, her face was on fire at the look he was aiming at her. She shifted the binder in her arms. 

“Is that mine?” he asked, squinting at the book. Harleen twisted so he couldn’t see. She felt herself blushing even more and wanted to melt into the floor. He noticed and turned his eyes back to Joan, emotionless. 

“Time to go, Harleen,” Joan muttered. “Take him to the room and restrain him, we'll meet you there,” she told a guard. “Time for your session, Jay.” 

She turned from him as he suddenly wailed at her and was thrown backwards when a current went through the metal bars he was gripping. He slammed onto his back, cackling that terrifically horrible laugh. 

“See you in a few, Harley!” he yelled at her as she hurried to leave. She almost waved goodbye. The cackling continued until the bank vault door clonked shut behind them. 

“Why was he so _polite_?” she asked Joan, who smiled at her. 

“He likes messing with people, and loves nicknames, gives them to everyone except doctors," she let that sink in. "Just as long as you're careful, I think this might work, he seems to like you,” she said, watching her face for a reaction. She turned and walked away, Harleen started to follow her, but stopped as Joan motioned to a room that she had missed on the first trip. An interrogation looking room with a skylight, a table, and two metal chairs. There was another door on the other side of the room, and beside it a big red button. 

“He’ll meet you in here, you can wait inside, a guard will be outside both doors at all times, and the session will be recorded. If you want out, use the button, if not we’ll come get you in an hour.” 

“Okay, sounds good, thank you,” she smiled and entered the room, and they shut the door behind her. She sat at the table and opened the binder, wiping her damp palms on her lab coat. She was going over notes of a psychotic episode in the dining hall when a buzzer sounded and scared the hell out of her. 

The door swung open and three guards shuffled a cooperative Joker into the room and sat him in a chair. He was wearing a straitjacket and a plastic mask over his mouth so he couldn’t spit at her. One guard knelt and fastened the chain between the man’s feet to the chair. 

She smiled at the guards, who asked if she needed anything else. 

“Actually,” she paused, looking at those blue eyes of his. “Can you take the mask off?” she kept eye contact with him. “You’re not going to spit on me are you?” 

“Only if you want me to,” came the muffled response. She laughed despite the guards. They took the mask off and The Joker wiggled around in his jacket. The guards left them alone. 

“I would've told them to take that too but I didn’t think they would,” she said, watching him struggle with the arms. 

“How very kind of you, Harley,” he looked at her with that smirk on his wide mouth, and she blushed again. 

She looked down at the chart and rifled through more papers, scanning blood work charts and forms signed by people who had horrid penmanship. She found she didn’t know what to say to the man across the table from her. 

“You can just ask me, doll. You know, instead of reading about it,” he was smiling at her, sitting back and looking almost nonchalant. She watched him watching her for another second. 

“I don’t know what to ask you, to be honest,” she sat back from the binder and crossed her arms. 

“Honesty is the best policy, doll,” he offered no other information about himself though, and she made a face. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Don’t remember. Next.” 

She paused, “Parents?” 

“Dead I assume. Yours?” 

The question caught her off guard. “My parents are none of your business.” 

“OOoo burr,” he rubbed his arms inside his jacket. “Chilly answer, love. That bad eh?” He was smiling. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“Change of subject? Must be bad.” His smile was gone, “Green, and purple,” he grinned again, inclining his green hair at her. “Yours?” 

“Orange,” she lied quickly, sitting forward to turn some pages in the binder. _Why am I so fidgety around him?_

“Liar.” 

She looked up at him, surprised to be caught. His face was a mask of seriousness. _Will lying make him mad?_

“I’m not lying.” 

“You are, it was the same as mine wasn’t it? It’s okay, you don’t have to say. Oh I rhymed!” he cackled. Harleen’s heart was beating entirely too hard. 

“What do you remember of your life before coming to Gotham?” 

“Ugh, I’ve been asked that before,” he rolled his head back and waved it back in forth in a way that showed off the thick muscles in his neck. Harleen looked away. “Give me something original.” 

“Oh, okay. Umm. Have you ever loved anyone?” He snapped his head up to narrow his eyes at her. 

“Have _you_ , Harley?” 

“Just my mother.” 

“Ooh, a virgin then? How incredibly innocent," that smile again that made parts of her tingle. "I don’t understand what love is, since we're being honest, to know if I’ve felt it before.” 

“Good answer,” she smiled at him. Her question was more aimed to see if he felt any emotion at all, to help with a diagnosis, but by the way he was staring at her it had been the wrong question to ask. 

He fussed with his jacket for a minute, like he wanted to raise his hand, then looked to the side and huffed, annoyed. He looked back at her, “I like you, Dr. Quinzel,” he smiled and the way he turned his head made the lights glitter off his silver teeth. “I think we’re going to be friends.” 

“Why the silver teeth?” she asked, ignoring the friends thing because she didn't honestly know how to respond to that. 

He wrinkled his nose at her. “You don’t like them?” He had a dangerous look in his eyes. _Offended?_

“I didn’t say that,” though in truth she didn’t. It was unnerving. 

“Liar,” he drew the word out, smiling even larger for her. Then his smile died and he sniffled, running his tongue along his metal incisors. “You have Batman to thank for my lovely smile, darling.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” She jotted in her notes. 

“Of course you can. You’re the doctor, and I’m the murderer,” he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. 

She waited but he didn’t start talking. “Joker? Can you tell me what happened?” 

“Call me Jay, please, love,” she nodded at him, and he laughed a little. “It’s funny to remember, I’d never killed a main player before, you know? But the way that crowbar was bouncing off his head,” he bobbed his head back and forth, knocking his green hair around. “The blood was something to see, I’m surprised the police were able to tell who it was when I was done with him,” he watched Harleen’s face, but she kept it straight, though she could feel the bile at the back of her throat. “He was just so annoying,” he growled like an animal. “Then Ser Batman found me and managed to catch me and knocked all my teeths out in revenge for his sweet Robin. He was probably fucking him, why else would he be so upset?” He smacked his lips together with a smuck. “So anyways I went and got some new shiny ones that wouldn’t break if he tried it again,” he nodded, smiling. 

_Ser Batman._. She reached forward for her papers, shaking and wishing she had never come here. Her previous semi-infatuation with The Joker was making her want to empty her stomach on the cement beside her. The image of him smashing Batman's second hands skull in with a crowbar was repeating over in her head. That and the fact that they had the same nickname for him. That couldn't be healthy. Her hands were shaking violently and a few papers scattered to the floor. 

“Did I scare you, Harley?” he asked, concern painted across his white face. “I’m sorry if I did. I was just answering your question.” 

He was right. She did ask. She stopped fussing with the book, and from that look she was getting from him imagined that if he could he’d place his hand over hers. _No. This is too weird. What’s wrong with me?_

“I think that’s enough for today,” she said, standing. He stood too, though he couldn’t go far chained to the chair. 

“Harley please, don’t leave. I get horribly lonely in that fucking cell.” _He’s begging me to stay._

She looked at him and turned to the button beside the door. “Don’t!” he screamed, staring at her with huge eyes and holding painfully still. She stared at him for a minute, vibrating, and decided she didn’t want to push it any further. That jacket didn't look like the strongest thing. 

“Ok, I'll stay. Calm down,” she said, turning back to him but throwing a look at the camera and wondering why they hadn’t sent anyone in. “I’ll stay,” she sat back down and so did he. 

He watched her for a minute, a look of confusion on his face. 

“What?” 

“No one ever does what I say in here,” he was smiling a smile that reached his eyes. 

_This is a dangerous man._

She was creeped out, but fascinated. Fascinated with who this man was, and why she was responding so strongly to him. His teeth were metal and his mind a bowl of porridge, but he was showing signs of emotions, which alone was more than she had hoped to find in any of the patients, let alone the most insane. 

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, his blue eyes wide with interest and head lowered like a cat. 

“About how interesting you are,” she said, lacing her fingers together on the table in front of her. 

“I knew you liked me,” he smiled that smile, and she couldn’t stop her own.


	2. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen has been at Arkham for a week now, finally settling into her role there, until Jay shakes it up for her like he's so good at.

The wall of the prison exploded in a rush of brick and mortar as his cackle filled the air. A team of maniacs that were dressed in taxidermy animal heads rushed in through the hole, assault rifles firing at the ceiling and into the torsos of the guards surrounding her cell. 

Harley was banging her shoulder on the bars, grinning and dancing in her straitjacket. Her blond hair was in pigtails that did a red and blue dance of their own as she spun. 

A team of monsters in full body armor slapped something on the lock of her door and it exploded as soon as they let go, blowing the door inwards to slam against the cage beside her. One of them walked in and stalked towards little Harley, shoulders swinging with the weight of his gun. She wished her hands were free to grip the shiv she had stowed under the side of the cage as he crossed the cell and ripped off his goat helmet. 

“Puddin’!” she screamed, who dropped his gun then slashed the straps of her jacket with a huge knife. She tore off the dirty garment and threw herself at Jay, who cackled and spun her around. He pulled back for just a moment to lay a kiss on her that left her lightheaded. 

“Let’s go baby,” he whispered in her ear, turning his back to her. She hopped on and grabbed the pistol from his belt, firing two shots in the air as she whooped on his back. He danced back out the way he had come, holding his arms out like an airplane while sirens blared and gunshots rang out in the night. 

They made it a hundred feet outside of the slashed fence before he threw her in the grass and stripped his armored vest and jacket off. She tore her shirt off and kneeled before him to kiss and bite at his hipbones as he undressed. 

“Oh, Harley, doll,” he moaned, stuttering in his attempts at his pants zipper as his head rolled back. The blond got tired of waiting and bit the zipper with her teeth and yanked down. His knees dipped as his legs almost gave out under him, and when their eyes met he smirked and swung his head to the side. 

She pulled his pants down and his cock sprung free with an almost audible _pop_. Harley flipped her pigtails out of her face and ran her tongue from his balls to the tip of him, staring at his thick neck and bobbing up and down on him until he lifted his head and stared back at her with those blue eyes. Then she swallowed him whole, shoving her nose so hard into his pelvis that he tilted backwards from the force. 

This time his knees did give out; and the noise he let out as he struggled to stand had Harley laughing around her mouthful. 

He landed on Harley then and they both laughed, rolling in the mud and grass. The Clown of Crime shoved her back and took off her orange prison pants slowly, running his long red tongue along her dirty thigh and sending chills all along her skin. He pulled them off and threw them at a branch, then ran his pale hands up her thighs and growled low in his throat. 

The sounds he was making and his rough hands were twisting Harley’s lower stomach so tight she couldn’t stop the noises coming from her own mouth. Then his hand was between her legs and the other one was scratching up her stomach. 

“Daddy please,” she moaned, sitting up to grab him and pull him towards her. He growled in response and smiled at her, shoving her back down and wrapping a huge hand tightly around her throat. 

“Please _what?_ ” he asked, growling and snarling at her. 

“Please take me, I want you so bad,” she wheezed out around his hand. “I love you so much, please Mr. J,” she wrapped one hand around his wrist that was throttling her and ran the other along his strong chiselled chest. 

“So pretty, little harlequin. So good,” he said, leaning down to her ear. “I love you too, doll,” and using his other hand guided himself into her, making Harley choke out a garbled scream of pleasure. 

“Baby, shh, shh, shh” he put a finger on her lips as he pushed into her completely, his own eyes jerking around inside of his skull. “We don’t want the police to hear you screaming,” he laughed in her ear, and her back arched at his voice. She tried to get out that she had missed him so much and loved him again but his hand was too tight and his lips too good. 

They ran down her jawline and onto her chest, sucking like a baby as he pulled out and slammed back into her, tightening his hand around her throat. She loved it. She loved him. 

Her fingernails left bloody trails down his back, and he laughed as she grabbed his neon green hair and tore his head away from her chest and onto her face. She opened her mouth and he kissed her as deep as he could, running that lovely tongue around hers and on her lips, her gums, the roof of her mouth, the corner of her mouth. 

Harley was drowning in him, and never wanted to breathe again. 

She blacked out for a second; she was so close to climaxing she screamed just to let some of it out. And then he licked the shell of her ear and ran a rough finger along her clit, rubbing it back and forth and her eyes rolled back and she grabbed him as her orgasm took control of her body. 

Harleen woke as waves of pleasure bombarded her and she humped the pillow she was spooning harder. She couldn’t stop the whines and groans and lewd sounds coming out of her and her hands turned into useless knobs she held in front of her. It kept coming, and she grabbed for Jay, calling his name. 

As the waves grew weaker she had enough willpower to open her eyes, and saw her ceiling. She shut them again and pictured him above her, strangling her and whispering lovely things to her. It was no use; he was gone, locked back up in that hole. And she was here, alone, and still a virgin. 

The light was streaming through her purple curtains. She threw the covers off angrily and sat on the side of her bed, wiping her eyes and sighing. Her white walled two roomed studio apartment was laughing at her as she tried to wipe the images from her head. 

Harleen stood and went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, seeing her sweet virgin face staring back at her. She sneered at it and tried start the shower, only to have the wall behind her rumble and brown water to shoot out of the tap. 

She clunked her head against the tiled wall and rolled her eyes, “Seriously?” 

A quick call to the landlord confirmed a pipe had burst under the street and shut off water to half of her block. She wondered idly if Batman had any experience with plumbing as she threw on a white blouse and black skirt then went back to the mirror. She put on her glasses and wished she could wear something a little nicer for Jay, who only got to see her in her preppy work clothes. 

She went back to her closet and filed through to look for something professional and sexy, but found she really needed a shopping trip. Instead of changing she undid a button on her blouse and arranged her cleavage nicely. She looked at her gold watch and realized how late she was running. So she grabbed a clip off the sink and tossed her hair back quickly; knowing unwashed strands were falling all around her face. 

_I get to see him today._ She sighed, her tummy twisting in the nicest way, clenching and pulsing. 

She arrived later than she thought, and walked in twenty minutes late to her appointment with Floyd Lawton. He was sitting there waiting for her, with the regular dour look on his face. He smiled when she walked in though, they all did. 

She had been here for over a week now, and all of their faces and stories had begun to blur together. Everyone except for Jay’s. She had needed to start keeping notes because she couldn’t pay attention to anything except when she got to see him next. Harleen knew she was playing a dangerous game, and she was going to get hurt because he was the villain. But she couldn’t help it. 

She sat down with Floyd already distracted, and the man gave her a reproachful look. 

“Shower broken, Dr. Quinzel?” he asked, lifting his cuffed hands to scratch at the side of his nose. She looked up from her folder and self-consciously tried to rearrange herself. 

“It was actually,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. Deadshot just nodded and looked back down at his handcuffs. 

“What’s up today, Floyd?” 

He looked at her with those sad brown eyes and shook his head, scrunching his nose up. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t help me,” she smiled, lacing her fingers in front of her and leaning on her elbows. He looked up and glanced down at the cleavage she forgot she had, and he laughed, looking to the side. 

“Who’s that for, I wonder?” he asked her, putting his own hands on the table. She blushed and did the button up. 

“It’s not _for_ anyone, Mr. Lawton. I was in a rush this morning and forgot a button,” he hmm’ed at her and raised his eyebrows. “Enough about me, why the sad look today?” she tapped her pen on her fingernail. 

“It’s my daughter,” he cleared his throat, trying to look carefree, but failing as he went to cross his arms and caught his hands up in the cuffs instead. She found herself thinking about how relaxed Jay looked all the time. 

“What happened?” she asked instead. 

He looked at her and pursed his lips, “It’s her birthday today, Harleen.” He cleared his throat again, and Harleen realized he was trying not to cry. 

“Hey,” she reached forward and laid her hand on his. “Did they give you your phone call?” The Asylum let patients call out to family if it was a special occasion. 

He looked down at her hand on his and moved his away, clearing his throat yet again; he looked aside and showed her his face. It was purple and black underneath his dark skin, and was split wide open across his cheekbone, small black sutures kept the flesh together. 

“Oh my god!” she stood and reached out to run her fingers down his face, but he moved again. Normally he had no issue with her touching; she was always like this with him. He was her second favorite next to Jay, of course. But never did she let on she had a crush on him, she just had good friend chemistry with him. _Maybe he wants more with me._ “What happened, Floyd?” she demanded, sitting back down. 

“I guess word of you and Jay hasn’t gotten around as fast as he wanted,” he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, careful of what she said. She never knew who might be listening. 

“During yard time, I guess one of the guards was saying how you held my hand the other day when I was talking about some shit, and Jay overheard,” he looked at her. “He picked the goddamn lock on his cuffs and attacked me. Punched me five times before the guards got him off me, and screamed at me to stay away from you or he’d gut me like a pig. All while he was laughing,” he looked at her sideways with a face that said, _explain._

“Floyd,” she almost reached forward to grab his hand. Then stopped. _This is getting dangerous_. A small part of her was grinning and fawning over the fact that Jay had attacked someone for her though, at even the _mention_ of touching her. _It’s only been a week. What am I doing?_ She had only even talked to Jay a handful of times, but the connection they had was undeniable, and she felt like she’d known him for a lifetime. 

“What? It’s not true?” Floyd was looking at her like she was a snake. “I know Jay is batshit and whatnot, but I don’t think he’s that crazy, all due respect. You’re leading him on, and you might not know you are, but you are,” he looked over to the guards and motioned one over. “And now I don’t get to talk to my girl because of that piece of shit.” 

Harleen felt her temper rising at the name-calling, but if she wanted to keep it up that there was nothing there, there had to be nothing there. “I’ll get you your phone call, Floyd. And I’ll be careful with Jay, thank you.” 

He raised his joined hands and pointed at her. “See, that right there. You just confirmed it for me, Dr. Quinzel,” he smiled and shook his head at her confused face. “Any other doctor would’ve changed patients,” he stood as the guard reached him and nodded to Harleen, taking Floyd by the arm and walking him out of the room. 

She had a rebuttal on her tongue but held it; the guards didn’t need to hear her defending herself. 

She sat back as the door shut on the room, taking her breath with it. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was a ball of knots, not in the good way like this morning. She felt like she could barely get a breath in and undid the button on her blouse again to get some air. 

The door opened again with a creak and in strolled a guard, who asked her if she was ready for Jay. She nodded and wiped her eyes, inhaling and exhaling to slow her heart. 

He skipped in with a guard at his side, whistling some cute tune from an infomercial. He plopped himself down across from her and smiled. 

“Harley,” he started, smile dying as he took in her expression. “What’s wrong?” he leaned forward and wiggled in his straitjacket. As he did his hand shifted a bit and blood leaked through where he split his knuckles open on Deadshot’s face. He saw her looking at the blood and laughed. “Mmm,” he groaned, twisting his head to the left then the right. “Floyd Lawton,” he growled, saying the name like a bad word. “I heard he was trying to get chummy with you, Doctor,” he shot a look at her, and Harleen was shocked to find him looking angry. 

“Chummy?” was the only word she could manage. Her anxiety was almost choking her. 

“Cozy close near lovey affectionate endearing friendly intimate inseparable, _chummy_ ,” the words rushed out like a flood, and he was looking at her with eyes like saucers. “Are you denying it?” 

“Of course I am,” she furrowed her eyebrows together. “The only one I like even talking to is you, Mr. J,” she muttered, blushing as she realized what she had just said. She had only heard ‘Mr. J’ in her dream. The nickname hung in the air like smoke. 

“Mr. J?” he laughed and leaned forward as much as he could, his neck was full of thick muscle and Harleen had images of running her tongue along it flashing behind her eyes. She felt her cheeks light up more. “You made that up all by yourself, did you? I _love_ it, Harley,” he whispered, licking his red lips. “I _love_ nicknames,” he breathed. Hearing him say the word 'love' was giving her vivid flashbacks. Her face was too hot; she fanned herself with her blouse, unknowingly drawing his eyes to her chest. He licked his lips again and rolled his head back. “Harley,” he moaned, rolling his shoulders and staring at her. 

“I heard it in a dream,” she whispered before she could stop herself. She looked up to see his face light up, eyebrows shooting at his green hair and blue eyes widening along with his mouth. He was the picture of shockface. 

“You dream of me?” he asked too loudly, almost vibrating. She shook her head and he tsk’ed with his tongue. “Don’t be shy, baby,” he whispered. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

His use of the word ‘baby’ had her shifting in her own seat and clearing her throat. _This is too much, I'm gunna lose my damn mind around him._ “I didn’t dream of you, I misspoke,” she lied, shifting her notes around until she found his chart. 

“Bad liaaaar, Harley,” he was tilting his head to the side and smiling at her. 

She changed the subject, launching into a thread they had left off on two days prior about a memory he had before he murdered Robin and when his relationship with Batman had been non-violent. He played along and began confiding, telling her about how he had tried working with the Riddler and landed him in Arkham instead. He told her how he broke out of Arkham so often, and how many allies he really had in Gotham City, and the huge size of his gang. About how the gang fell apart without him, and when he was gone it was their priority to get him out. 

“How do you know they won’t lose loyalty?” she asked. 

“How do you know those guards outside the door won’t come in and shoot you? How do you know a mother won’t smother her newborn when she takes it home? How do you know anything you know?” he cackled, and a guard poked his head in to make sure she wasn’t being murdered. She waved him away. “I don’t know anything, dollface. I just know.” 

She narrowed her eyes in confusion at him, “What does that even mean?” he laughed even harder. 

“It means, my dearest Dr. Quinzel, that neither of us knows what we’re doing,” he smiled at her with those teeth. 

“It seems like you always know what you’re doing,” she started, looking at him in a new light. She wondered what his gang looked like and taxidermy animal heads came to mind. Power was always attractive to women, she had read that somewhere, and it was correct. The thought of insane, lovely Mr. J with an army at his back and her at his side was enough to make her blush again. 

“I do know what I’m doing, baby,” he winked at her and smirked. She blushed harder, adjusting her glasses. “Hey, what did you say that dream was about?” he laughed as she raised a hand to cover her red face. “I thought so,” he mumbled, sitting back and crossing his legs, ankle on his knee. Harleen could almost picture him with gold rings glittering off his strong hands, with a black suit on and a cigar in his fingers, waving his hand at people he didn’t want to be bothered with and having his own drag them off. 

She didn’t know where to even go from that point, so she sat there quietly thinking about calling a guard, but didn’t want their time to be at an end. She tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear, really wishing she had have showered. 

“Rough night?” Jay asked. 

“What?” 

“You haven’t showered, you look gorgeous still of course, but _unkempt_.” 

“The water was off in my building,” she said, fussing more with her hair. “It’s a crappy apartment and a pipe burst or something.” 

“Shame, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be living in anything less than a palace,” he looked at her. 

“It’s really not that bad, I just need to save up some money to get a place in a better part of town,” she blushed and fussed with more papers. 

“I could have them look you up, you know,” he whispered, watching her. _What?_ Her eyes asked. “My people, they could keep an eye on you, make sure no _hooligans_ ,” he laughed, “get anywhere near my Harley.” 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Jay.” _My Harley_. She stifled her smile. 

“Why not?” 

“You’re a patient in an asylum I work at, whether I want your protection or not,” _I do_ , “my boss wouldn’t like it if I was getting special attention from you. And how would you even communicate with anyone? They don’t let you make phone calls,” not even sometimes. He had lost that privilege when he called out a hit on a guard’s family that had beaten the shit of him. Two little girls and his wife were hanged from the front porch before the cops reached them. All three had ‘ha ha ha’ carved all over their naked bodies. _Dark shit. It was probably his gang’s idea._

“I have my ways. And no one will know, it’ll be our little secret,” he laughed, wiggling in his chair. A guard walked in then, tapping his watch. _It’s been an hour?_

She stood as Jay did, winking at her. “I’ll send you a present tonight, baby,” he whispered to her as the guard got nearer. She couldn’t reply without the guard hearing, so she shook her head no instead, staring at him with wide eyes. She didn’t want a gift from him. _God knows what he’d even send!_

She had a meeting with Harvey after Jay, but the entire time she was completely distracted about what she was going to find when she went home that night. She and Harvey were pretty close though, and she eventually got involved in what he was talking about; his family before his accident and how supportive they had been. When their hour was up they escorted him out, with Harleen hot on his heels. 

She sped-walked to the report room, passing Jay’s Residence and fighting to keep from going in. She sat down hard at the ancient computer and fixated on charting her notes in the system. Drifting in and out of focus. She kept thinking she was going to get home to an apartment full of bats, or have several black cars surrounding her building with animals driving, or other darker things that she hoped Jay wouldn’t do to her. But truth was, she didn’t know him, he was mentally unstable, and she was in too deep. 

She was dreaming about falling in love with a psychopath. 

She was in the middle of thinking about talking to her own psychiatrist when her watch beeped six times at her. Home time if she wanted. She didn’t get paid to stay past six, but she was genuinely anxious to leave the building. 

Harleen took a deep breath, and reminded herself that she was a psychiatrist and was letting her work get to her. She gathered up her things, mainly an ungodly amount of notes on every patient except Jay, and stuffed them in her bag. She was heading to the elevator when she remembered her promise to Floyd about getting him his phone call. 

Biting her lip, she spun on her heel and headed for Joan’s office. It was another walk by Jay’s hallway, and her resolve was nearing an end when she had to turn her back on it again. Joan was sitting at her desk tapping at a keyboard when Harleen walked in. 

“Dr. Quinzel! How nice to see you, I was thinking about you today, how are you getting along?” Harleen walked in and sat across from Joan, laying her bag across her lap. 

“I’m good thank you,” she smiled at her, fiddling with her fingernails. “Everyone has been amazing, and I’m learning a lot.” She paused. 

“But?” Joan said, crossing her arms across her chest and smiling back at Harleen. 

“I was talking to Mr. Lawton earlier, and he said that his daughter has a birthday today,” she trailed off, wondering if Joan knew about it. 

“I heard what happened at yard time, Harleen. He and Jay got into it, they’re both being punished for their behaviour, I can’t very well show one preference over the other,” she was frowning at Harleen, who shifted under the gaze. 

“I know, but I think there was a misunderstanding between them, and he completely shut down in his session today after we were making good progress. I don’t know what happened between them, but his daughter shouldn’t be the one to suffer. I promised him I would try anyways,” she muttered at the look on Joan’s face, who just stared at her. So Harleen stood and walked to the door, pausing when her hand was about to turn the handle. 

“Okay,” Joan muttered, raising her eyes to Harleen. “You’re right; I’ll find a different way to punish him. Thank you for your concern, Doctor. It’s nice to know someone else actually gives a shit about these people.” 

Harleen turned and nodded at her. “Thank _you_ , Joan,” she smiled and left, almost skipping down the hallway. Then she got another wave of anxiety on the elevator, and huffed in annoyance. She reminded herself to tell Jay not to do anything like this again the next time she saw him. 

That played out in her head just as him laughing at her and being even more encouraged to get under her skin. She tapped across the lobby, buzzing her way out into the dusky air. 

A purple limo was waiting for her. 

She stopped and took out her phone to call her cab. Then noticed the driver of the limo walking towards her. She put the phone down as the operator picked up and driver reached her. 

“Harley Quinn?” he asked, holding out a white gloved hand to help her down to the car. 

“It’s Harleen Quinzel actually,” she said, not taking his hand. 

“Jay sent a ride for you, said we’re to take you home, ma’am,” he let his hand fall back to his side and placed his other behind his back like a gentleman. 

“Oh,” _he sent me a limo?_ She was torn. There were more than likely cameras pointed at her, and who else would own a purple limo? “No, thank you, I’ll call a cab,” she muttered, walking away from the driver and redialing the cab company. 

“As you wish,” he said, walking over to her to shake her hand; she accepted cautiously. He brought his other hand up as they touched and pushed an envelope into her palm, then was off and driving away. The purple paint shimmered in the setting sun. She peeked in the envelope and almost dropped her phone when the operator picked up again. 

She stuttered as she told the woman her address, and stared at the contents until her car pulled up in front of the steps. 

She got in and was still staring at it as the car pulled onto the road. 

“Are you okay ma’am?” the driver asked, looking at her in the rear view mirror. 

“Ye-yeah,” she stuttered, pulling the bills out of the white paper. She was holding a huge stack of fresh green hundred dollar bills. On the inside of the envelope was a little heart with, _For the cab, J_ ; below it. 

His writing. Her heart was soaring and she didn’t even bother trying to stop the grin that split her face. 

The cab pulled up outside her building and she handed him a hundred from the pile, and he grinned too when she said to keep the change. Harleen stepped out of the cab and clicked her heels on the way to the front doors. 

She walked to the elevator with the money still gripped in her hands, wondering what she was supposed to do until she saw him again. Right then she wanted to jump into his arms and hug him and thank him. 

Truth was, she was struggling to make rent in this city, and the cost of living was madness. He had just saved her. 

She got into her apartment and tossed her keys in the dish beside the door, flicking the lights on. 

Roses. A gorgeous crystal vase was sitting in the middle of her dining room table, holding a bouquet of the red flowers. She dropped her bag and walked over to the table, lifting the vase to get the letter underneath. It had ‘ _Harley Quinn_ ’ written on the front of it in the most eloquent handwriting she had ever seen. _Harlequin_. Her dream was turning out to be uncomfortably foreshadowing. 

She opened the card and yelled when she was squirted in the face. A little mechanism on the inside of the card normally used for playing music was replaced by a little water gun. She laughed as she wiped her face with her sleeve and shook her head. 

“I guess they don’t call you The Joker for nothing,” she muttered to herself. The inside of the card had a note. “ _My Harley, you’re all I think about. J._ ” There was a crude drawing of a motorcycle and two stick figures beside it holding hands. 

“Harley, I get it,” she chuckled and ran her finger over the terrible drawing. “Not much of an artist.” 

She plucked a rose from the bouquet and was surprised when nothing jumped out at her or shot her. She smelled it and imagined Jay writing in his elegant penmanship. She closed her eyes and saw his, and she smelled the flower again, inhaling deeply. 

Harleen put the flower back in the vase and turned it a little so the flowers looked nicer. She yawned and made for the shower, turning on the light to find a note written in red lipstick on her mirror. 

_Harley Quinn, you’re my everything_. There was about twelve hearts colored in surrounding the note. But it wasn’t written in the same hand of course. She sighed and gripped the letter she was still holding tighter. Then moved to the window overlooking the street, hoping to find more presents. 

Instead she saw two purple and one green car all parked on her street. The streetlights shining down showed two men sitting in each. _I guess he isn’t a good listener_. She felt better though, because she technically declined his offer on camera, and turned away the ostentatious limo ride that was way too obvious. _At least they're not wearing fucked up masks._ She turned from the window, feeling like the most important woman in Gotham City, and rushed to the bedroom. 

She found her bed covered in red rose petals, and cozied up on the opposite side of her side was a cardboard cut-out of Jay. She laughed out loud, rushing over to the half-naked picture. It showed his impressive abdomen and his tattoos, and an almost sane smile on his sculpture-like face. She laughed again and jumped like a little girl, then moved the cut-out to stand it up beside her door. She jumped on the bed and landed on something hard. 

Harleen stood, still laughing and happy and tossed her covers back, sending rose petals flying. A black suitcase was sitting in the very middle of her bed, with a crude drawing of a Cheshire-sized smile on the outside of it. 

She sat back down on the bed, making the case bounce in place. She turned it towards her and took a deep breath as she flicked the clips open. 

More money. Stacks of it. The bands on the outside of the rows read $40,000. Her heartbeat skipped as she took out almost twenty stacks and laid them neatly on the bed beside her. Sixteen bundles. 

“Six hundred and forty thousand dollars,” she whispered, running her hands over the green stacks then covering her mouth in awe. It was more money than she had ever seen in her life. She looked back in the suitcase and saw another note along with a small box with _RR_ in silver on the outside. 

It was written on heavy, expensive looking paper, and the box was light. Harleen opened the box first, and realized she was looking at the key to a Rolls Royce nestled in beige satin. The spot for the spare beside the square key was empty. She looked back at the note, not comprehending that she had the keys to an expensive car and more than half a million dollars on her bed. 

_Baby, I hope you liked all the gifts, there will be more. You deserve the world, and I plan to give it to you. Mr. J._

Her smile nearly took her ears. At the bottom of the paper was an address, with a phone number and a silver key taped to the page. 

She jumped off the bed and ran to the kitchen where she left her phone beside the roses. She dialed the number and got the front desk of a condominium in the Diamond District, Crystal Estates. 

“Uhm, yeah, this is uhh, Harleen Quinzel,” she drifted off, not knowing what to say. _My sociopath Joker who I think is in love with me and I'm in love with is on a gift-giving spree and I found this number on a piece of paper buried under half a million dollars with a key to a car probably worth the same._

“Ms. Quinzel! We’ve been expecting your call, and were so excited to hear you’d be joining us at Crystal Estates! Your payment came through this afternoon and your home should be move-in ready by the end of the week. I’ll give you a call when our movers are available to transport you into the space, is this number okay to call you back at?” she was chipper and sounded young, and Harleen didn’t have a reply for her. 

“My condo?” she asked stupidly. 

“Yes, is there some mistake? You and Mr. Clown just purchased our scenic penthouse this afternoon.” 

_He bought me a condo. He bought me a condo!_

“Yes oh my goodness, my apologies, I have my days mixed up,” she fibbed, sitting down on the floor in shock as she gave her information to the nice lady. 

“Oh and your friend Mr. Flowerpot dropped off the Royce to your premium reserved parking spot. We have the spare set if you require any transportation, please don’t hesitate to call and we can be there within ten minutes. If you have any questions feel free to call us back or call any of our manager’s personal numbers,” she listed off the numbers, and Harleen wrote them down. She thanked the nice lady and hung up, then started to laugh. 

“ _Mr. Clown and Mr. Flowerpot!_ ” she was hollering and laughing so hard she was crying on the floor, her hands over her face, then holding her stomach. She was hysterical, and only when she realized what people would think did she stop laughing. She sat up on the floor, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

She was in trouble. And she loved it.


	3. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen is in shock from the gestures from Jay and lands herself in some hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tuesday, August 23rd** For anyone who's read this since I posted last night, I edited the last paragraph a bit, had a change of heart!

It was nearly one in the morning, and Harleen was still sitting on the floor, holding the piece of paper with her new address on it. She hadn’t showered, hadn’t really moved much other than to put her phone down on the hardwood beside her and take her condo’s key off the note. Her roses were still on the table; her Joker cut-out still guarding her bedroom door. 

All she could think was, _Why me? What did I do to deserve this? He doesn’t make sense. Maybe I shouldn’t accept it. Is he trying to send me a message by having people in my home while I’m not? How did they even get in?_

The questions went on and on and on and on until she shook her head and looked around anxiously, searching for her next move. When she stood from the floor, legs tingling, she leaned the paper neatly against the side of her vase. The remote to her stereo was on the table so she turned it on, cranking the volume as she locked her front door. Her clothes trailed behind her as she walked to the bathroom, running her fingers over the mirror and smearing the red lipstick. 

_You don’t own me._

The song started and she tossed her glasses in the sink, skipping to slide back out into the living room in her stockings. Her feet slipped down the hardwood as she lowered herself into the splits, turning and lifting both legs in the air gracefully. The years of ballet lessons came rushing back as she danced half naked in the room, pirouetting perfectly and even moving into a handstand and back so fluidly a laugh bubbled from her. 

Her long legs knew exactly where to move, and she could almost hear her old ballet instructor barking out numbers and moves. Muscles she hadn’t used in a while pulled and pinched and she had to stop when she tried to touch her toes and the back of her knees pulled so hard she flinched. 

The bass shook the tub as she climbed in and started the shower, letting the cold water wash over her matted hair. 

“ _I’m not just one of your many toys_ ,” she sang along, washing her hair and swaying her hips with the beat. 

Someone started banging on her door, complaining about the noise probably, but it was locked and she wasn’t going to be living here much longer anyways. So she ignored them and laughed and sang louder, flinging her wet hair around like rope. 

Jay’s presents had just saved her a headache and a half from her landlord, who was expecting rent next week, but they also opened a whole new can of worms. _Does he want something in return?_ She had nothing to give him but herself, which of course might just be what he wanted. Or maybe he was being genuine and just had this stuff lying around, seeing as he was considered the Clown Prince of Crime. He had Gotham by the balls while he was on the streets, and apparently still ran things from inside Arkham. She smiled as she realized she was his focus as much as he was hers. 

“ _You don’t own me!_ ” She screamed, ripping the shower curtain down as she nailed the high note and danced, still laughing, out of the tub. Harleen grabbed a hairbrush as a microphone and watched herself sing and dance in the red-streaked mirror. The shower curtain turned into a ball gown as she swung around, and imagined Jay dancing dorkily with her around the apartment. He would spin her in a circle and then swoop and wrap her in his arms and lift her up. And then the song died, and she let the curtain fall unceremoniously to the tiles. 

“I wish I had my Joker to play with,” she muttered, tossing the brush at the mirror. It bounced harmlessly into the sink, clattering. She got dressed as a slower song came on, but walked over and shut it off, much to the delight of her neighbours no doubt. 

She laughed at herself when she debated sleeping with so much on her mind, and decided on a walk instead. Gotham City was something to see really, and she hadn’t done anything in the past week other than work. _There are more interesting things to see at Arkham. They have blue eyes and green hair._

She grabbed a jacket and threw it on over her tank top; the letter from Jay was in her hand again, so it got stuffed in her pocket. Having his writing with her felt nice, like she had a part of him. She stopped at the front door and grabbed a hundred dollar bill out of the pile on her bed, just in case. 

Reaching the street, she tapped out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the night air as well as her cancerous smoke. She aimed for uptown, since she already knew the way downtown and eventually out to Arkham. 

As she started down the sidewalk the little doctor found herself wishing there was someone she could just vent to. A girlfriend or cool aunt or sister. She talked to Jay obviously, but there were only so many things that could be said on camera. Both of them ached to be able to talk about their lives without fear of Joan and Jeremiah. The day that she was able to pour her heart out to him was the day the little psychiatrist was pining for. 

She turned a corner and walked slower, enjoying the cool air on her skin, the way it was blowing at her wet hair. Another puff off the smoke, another corner, and she was lost. 

“For fuck sakes, Harleen,” she whispered to herself, flicking her smoke at a puddle and reaching for her phone to call a cab. 

Which was when she remembered sitting it on her floor. Her eyes rolled around in her head and she peeked up and down the street. It was empty. Seeing as how it was nearing three in the morning on a weekday that shouldn’t have been irritating, but it was. 

She cursed out loud now, stomping on the sidewalk with her boots and turning to the left, hoping she would recognize a street name or at least find someone with a cellphone she could use. Her mind wandered to her Rolls Royce sitting in a garage. _I should’ve taken tonight to try it out._

She made it several blocks without seeing a soul, and was about to sit down on the sidewalk and pout when she saw someone exiting a bar up the street. She sighed and hurried to the door, hoping they would let her use their phone. Instead, the man smoking on the sidewalk greeted her. 

“Need some help, sweetie?” he asked, his voice was as dark as his face, and Harleen made a fist in her sleeve. 

“No, actually, I just need to use their phone to call a cab,” she said curtly, turning back to bang on the glass door. _Come on_. It was a bad situation, even though she could probably handle the one man herself. She hated confrontation. 

“Sounds to me like you need some help,” he was laughing, and tossed his smoke into the gutter. Harleen turned around and squinted at him, wondering if she should trust him. 

_In Gotham, not likely. I need my own personal bat signal. Or a J signal, maybe those guys on my street would’ve helped me. I’m so stupid._

“Here,” he held out a cellphone to her. She rolled her eyes and reached for it cautiously with a thank you on her lips when he twisted his hand around and grabbed her wrist. She flailed, screaming, and tried twisting her arm back, but he was faster than she expected and got it behind her back, holding a knife to her throat with his other. Her other hand grabbed his to pull the knife away but he pressed harder into her skin instead. 

Two more men appeared from nowhere like they were in a cheesy movie; running towards them and her skin broke out in a cold sweat. She could feel the knife bite into her neck when she tried pulling and twisting away. The men were in front of her by that point, running their gloved hands over her stomach and waistband, and when she tried to hit them with her free hand one grabbed it and pressed it to her side. 

“Hurry up! I know she has something on her!” The man behind her spat, blowing hot air on her ear. Her stomach roiled as she brought her knee up and got the one not holding her in the gut. He _oofed_ and doubled over and the other one cursed and slammed his meaty fist into her ribs. 

Harleen tried to double over in pain, coughing and struggling to scream, but the man behind her held her still and there was no air in her chest. 

“She ain’t got nothing, boss!” whispered one of them. 

“Let me go!” she wailed, lifting both feet up in an attempt to send her captor tumbling forward. He was stronger than she thought though and just held her while the others pushed her legs back down. 

“Fucking crazy bitch,” one muttered, rifling through her jacket now. Her mind immediately went to the note from Jay. 

“What’s this?” one of the men was holding the bill and Jay’s note. 

She went berserk, seeing that elegant writing in their hands, the man behind her cursed more and pressed the knife harder against her neck, she felt it rip and slice into her skin, sending blood down to soak her shirt. 

“ _No!_ ” she screamed, pressing her head back to get away from the knife and kicking with her legs. The world was red behind her eyes. It was blood and rage and hate. 

“This is from the Joker, boys,” one of them whispered. Everyone stopped; along with Harleen, who took the moment to catch her breath. _Your name has street cred sweetie._

She inhaled and took advantage of their shock, kicking her leg backwards and relishing in the sound her captor’s knee made as she broke it the wrong way then threw her torso forward to flip him over her back. The knife cut deeper into her neck as she lurched forward. He managed to hold onto her arm as he tumbled over, though at least the knife went flying. The doctor was ripped around and fell into the heap with them. Her right shoulder made a sickening pop as he tore it out of its socket. 

The note fluttered out and into the street. Harleen scrambled and snatched it up, stuffed it into her bra and took off sprinting down the middle of the street, ignoring the blinding pain in her shoulder. She pressed a hand to her neck and pulled it away dripping in blood. Her cries for help sounded muffled under the roaring of adrenaline in her skull. 

“Stop her!” one of them shrieked. She cradled her right arm and put her head down, running as fast as her legs would carry her. 

She didn’t get far before one of the muggers slammed into her, sending them both into the pavement. He flipped her over and smashed the hilt of a knife into her face with a disgusting crunch, bouncing her head off the cement and filling her head with stars. The world swam as she laid in the gutter, listening to how she was going to be ransomed back to Joker’s gang and how she was the infamous psychiatrist Harley Quinn, the one the Joker was bonkers for. 

_Jay_ . . . 

She fought the clouds in her mind then and he was there, helping her, telling her to get up and run. Her heart skipped a beat and she opened her eyes, refusing to be the damsel in distress. The last thing she wanted was for Jay to think she was weak. 

Harleen got one hand planted on the bloody pavement underneath her when squealing tires roared around the corner. The sound bounced around in her head like a bowling ball and she almost passed out from the pain. Fighting it, she looked up and saw three cars come to a screeching halt in front of them. No less than thirty people got out. _Wait no, that can’t be right._

Then they were shooting and Harleen watched bodies fall and someone was hoisting her up. She screamed about her shoulder, and passed out when she felt someone wrench her arm around and snap it back into place. 

When she woke she sat up, delirious, her head was splitting in two, sending her stomach into a gymnastics routine. She gagged and heaved, then was lying on her stomach, puking out an open car door onto the street. She emptied her stomach and spat the remainder on the pavement. Taking a deep breath she sat up again, looking around at the green interior of an expensive looking car. 

_Jay_ , the word was a sigh of relief in her head. It was a cool breeze and a blanket, the first flower in spring and the cure for cancer. 

She looked out the window and saw six men in dark clothing filling her attackers full of bullets from huge assault rifles. The last of their magazines echoed down the empty streets and sirens echoed back. The men loaded the bodies up into a different car, _thank god_ , and she leaned back when two men got into the front and a woman climbed into the back with her. The lady slid under Harleen’s head, letting her rest on her lap and pressed something against her neck that pinched. She tried to sit up again only to be shoved back. 

“Stay down,” the woman mumbled at her as blue and red lights flashed on the roof of the car. 

Harleen winced as the sirens blasted by; she could feel her heartbeat in her eye, and when she lifted her fingertips to touch her face she bit back a scream. The blood ran from her in a river, trickling down to soak into the woman’s pants. She whimpered and the car lurched, driving faster. 

The tires screeched and the woman gripped her shoulder to stop her from falling off the seat when they stopped, but she grabbed the wrong shoulder and Harleen felt her bones grinding together and she passed out again. Then she was being carried, resting the not destroyed side of her face against someone’s leather jacket. 

The elevator tinged, and then she heard a door being unlocked. She was set down on her old brown couch and rolled over in a daze, pressing her mangled face into the cushion. The pain caught her off guard and she sat bolt upright, screaming and sobbing and grabbing her face as the world focused into a moment of perfect, blindingly painful, clarity. Four men and a woman in black crowded her at once; the men held her legs so she wouldn’t stand and the woman laid a cold cloth over her face. Then she held her neck as the men swung her legs back up and onto the couch. 

“Holy shit,” she groaned as the woman beside her took the cloth off her swollen face and tsk’ed. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Taylor, my friends are Jay’s friends, Harley,” she said as she popped open a first aid kit and soaked a patch of gauze with something brown. “I’m the Joker’s favorite doctor,” she smirked prettily. “Joking,” she piped with a giggle when she saw the look on Harleen’s face. The other woman had battle wounds of her own; three long scars ran down the right side of her head. They cut into her brown hair, leaving bald spots down her scalp. Another one ran from the side of her nose to her top lip, pulling the skin up and giving her a permanent sneer. She was still very pretty though, Harleen didn’t like that. 

Taylor dabbed the gauze on her eye and the psychiatrist couldn’t help the scream that gurgled out of her throat. Her entire eye was on fire, and whatever was on that gauze was tickling it at the same time. She tried to lift her hands to scratch it but someone held her down; so she sobbed loudly and screamed more. 

“Does she need a hospital?” a man asked, concern was thick in his voice. Harleen stopped screaming, someone was bound to call the cops at this rate. 

“I’m not sure, hang on, this is gunna hurt honey,” she inhaled and the doctor pressed her fingers against Harleen’s cheekbone on the left side of her face, and it took everything inside her not to scream bloody murder and cry for Jay. 

“Well?” Harleen asked through clenched teeth. 

“Nothing’s broken, thank god,” she whispered, rummaging through more shit in her first aid box. “There’s a big enough gash you’ll need a few stitches, and a sling for your shoulder. I’m gunna give you a topical and something for the pain, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She felt a needle prick into her face, then into her neck. Taylor handed her three different pills and Harleen forced them down without asking what they were, she just wanted the pain to be gone. The next needle pulled the thread through her flesh, and she shuddered at the feeling, biting her cheek and digging her nails into her palms. 

“You shouldn’t go on anymore field trips, little Harley,” Taylor whispered to her. “You almost gave our friends here a heart attack when you got yourself lost. You should’ve seen it, I thought they were going to have simultaneous strokes,” she laughed, Harleen didn’t laugh with her. She was too busy concentrating on not dying. Her face was pulsing in time with her heart, her shoulder felt like someone was still twisting it behind her back and her neck stung from under her left ear to her chin. 

“How big is the cut on my neck?” she groaned. 

“About two to three inches, a good size. It was bleeding a lot, I was worried they hit an artery,” Taylor sighed, pressing a bandage over her neck. “Do you want something to cover your face?” 

“What? Like an eyepatch? Is it that bad?” She got a shrug in response. 

“It’ll be worse tomorrow.” 

“Joker is gunna fucking kill us, man,” one of the men groaned. Harleen sat up, wanting to look in a mirror. She was going to see Jay tomorrow, and the thought of looking like a punching bag in front of him after he showered her with gifts had her nauseous all over again. 

“Woah woah, babygirl where you going?” Taylor was holding her good shoulder down. 

“Get out of my fucking _way_ , Jesus,” she cursed, slapping her aside and fighting the spinning room to stumble to the bathroom. 

She flicked the lights on and could hear Taylor chuckling behind her at the message on the mirror. She damn near spun and punched her but instead peered through the lipstick to see her mangled face. 

The entire left side of her cheek was swollen and red and shiny, and stitches ran from the corner of her eye down to the apple of her cheek. Purple was already starting to seep under her skin; _I’m going to look like a write-off tomorrow._

“Bastards got me good,” she mumbled, tilting her chin up to see the cut on her neck. It was covered by the dressing Taylor stuck there, so she peeled it back and cringed. It was bigger than she thought. The bruising from her shoulder was also starting to creep up her neck. _I’m like a jigsaw puzzle of injury_. The stitches were barely holding the cut together it was so wide and jagged. “What the fuck did they cut me with, a chainsaw?” 

“A serrated Bowie knife actually, thing was smaller than Pete’s dick though,” she chuckled, and so did the rest of the men in her apartment. “Come here, silly,” Taylor pulled her from the mirror and grabbed a new dressing as she sat her down at the dining room table. Harleen caught the look on Taylor’s face as she scanned the squirt-card and the roses from Jay. The doctor sniffed and patched her up again. Her gut knotted horribly as the word _jealousy_ bounced around in her head. 

“You got a history with Mr. J?” she whispered, staring the other woman down. The look in her eyes must’ve been a dangerous one, because Taylor gave her a look and set down the strips she was trimming with scissors. 

“Jay and I have a history yes,” she said, holding her hands up as Harleen felt her blood pressure spike and her hands start to shake. “It’s not a romantic one, Harley,” she said, still holding her hands up, like she had to defend herself. _She might have to if she doesn’t pick her next words carefully._

“My name is Harleen,” she snapped, glaring at the other woman. The thought of competition for Jay was making her nauseous. She wouldn’t believe it. Her reaction was so violent though that any and all doubt she had before was blown out of her mind. _Jay is mine_. 

“Sorry, _Harleen_ ,” Taylor whispered, mockery thick on her tongue. Her sneering lip looked ugly when she actually did sneer. She turned her head so Harleen had a clear view of the scars running down her head and face. “These are from Jay. The only thing he ever gave me. And here he is giving you flowers and money and shit,” she scoffed. “Run while you still can.” When she pressed the last strip on her face to hold the stitches together Harleen flinched away from her touch. 

“Watch your tongue, Tay,” one of the men behind them warned. Harleen saw him ready himself to grab the huge gun strapped to his back. Taylor turned to gawk at them, four of the huge men all glaring at her. “Don’t forget who you belong to, woman,” he growled at her. 

She turned to look at Harleen again and rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said to the psychiatrist, avoiding eye contact. Taylor pulled a sling out of her bag and fitted it to Harleen, still being gentle as before with her. “Don’t you worry, I’m not after Jay,” she said, handing her an ice pack and a smile and packing up her things. 

“Good,” Harleen muttered to herself, gingerly pressing the cold to her face with her free hand and moving to the couch. 

Taylor slammed something behind her, and Harleen turned before she sat, eyebrows raised. She was standing over the table, eyes down and rage clear across her face. The four men pulled their guns out in front. 

“I don’t want anything to do with that psycho, and neither should you, you’re a smart girl, so don’t be so _stupid_ ,” Taylor spat. Harleen narrowed her eyes at the woman, incredulous she had to deal with this in her own home after all that had happened. The four men crowded closer, forming a protective line in front of her. 

“Why don’t you just come out and _say_ it? Stop beating around the bush,” Harleen took a step towards the other doctor, slipping between two huge men, sneering and furious. “What was it? You loved him and he cut you up instead? Didn’t reciprocate and now you’re bitter because he actually is capable of love? Just not with you . . . _pathetic_ ,” Harleen gave her a disgusted look and laughed while her heart was a war drum in her chest. 

“If that’s what you really believe, you’re in trouble, sweetie,” Taylor pointed at her with two fingers and Harleen hurled the ice pack at her head. It flew true, and the woman had to duck to avoid being slapped in the face by it. Taylor laughed as it hit the floor, flipping her brown hair around. “You really wanna know what happened, you little twat?” Harleen flipped her off, getting ready to tell her to get out. “I sided with Batman once,” the woman said, stooping to pick up the cold projectile. 

One of the men stepped forward to stop her but Taylor held up a hand. “I tried to go to him because our lovely Joker was going to blow up a hospital, where he knew my mom was staying, because the Bat destroyed one of his cars,” she tilted her head and looked at Harleen, who sat down on the edge of the couch. “Jay said he wouldn’t do it if Batman would give him the Batmobile to replace it. Bat refused of course, thinking he could stop Jay in time. But I knew he couldn’t, and I also knew where Jay was keeping the detonator. I took it and gave it to Batman in secret, thinking I had just saved the day,” she flourished with her hand and rolled her eyes. “Jay caught me as I was coming back and blew the hospital up in front of me, making sure I had a good view of my mother’s room, and then threw me in a hole for three days. A hole with a few inches of water in it that he would have his boys dump ice into every few hours. When he came to me I was delirious and regretful, so he gave me a choice to redeem myself. Either I could die in the hole or I could do something to prove my loyalty,” she stopped to laugh. “He brought out a huge dog, ravenous and painted purple and threw it into the hole with me. Said, ‘ _Enjoy dying with another ugly bitch_.’ Lucky for me when it fell it broke its leg, so I charged it and tried to break its neck. It got these on me before I managed to kill it,” she shrugged. “So no, I don’t even want anything to do with this guy, but he won’t let me go, so, here I am,” she slapped her knees and smiled at Harleen. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. _He made her fight a dog for betraying him?_ She felt guilty for the relief she felt. _At least she’s no competition._

“There isn’t anything to say, just don’t make my life more difficult by seeing me as a threat, ‘cause Jay seems to like you enough to do something about it.” 

_So she’s not loyal, but Jay sent her here anyway. Maybe he did that for a reason_. Her mind was a whirl, but she was terribly exhausted. It had been a much more exciting night than she’d wanted. 

“I need to get some sleep, I have to work tomorrow,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and forgetting her injuries. It sent lances of pain along her head, then into her neck, then her shoulder. 

“You’re not going to work tomorrow, Harleen,” Taylor said, staring at her like she was insane. _I wonder how many times people look at Jay like that. It’s not very nice._

“I am though,” she laughed. “I get to see Jay tomorrow so, yeah, I’m going,” the men around her collectively groaned, and Taylor rubbed the bridge of her nose. 

“We’re all going to have to pay for this one eventually boys, we can’t tell her what to do,” Taylor shrugged at her and motioned them all out. “We’ll be outside, Pete’s staying outside the door until you leave, and we’ll give you a ride tomorrow too, try to get some sleep, and call us if you need us,” she pressed her phone into Harleen’s hand. “Speed dial 1,” then they were gone. 

The doctor turned off all the lights, and the darkness wrapped her in a blanket of relief. Her feet barely carried her to the bedroom and she threw the phone on her bed to fumble for the Jay cut-out, dragging it to the bed with her. She stared at it and rested her swollen face on the cool cardboard, sighing and wishing she could actually have him here, fawning over her and getting her water and pillows. 

Harleen drifted off like that, hugging a chunk of cardboard. 

Her dreams were choppy and terrifying. Of being chased by three men, then four, then she shot one in the face and she was holding Taylor in her own lap, cheeks cut from ear to ear to give her a ghastly smile. Batman swooped down and stole the corpse from her, only to throw it into a burning Arkham, where someone was standing on the roof. Who then grew wings and horns and launched at her. 

She woke with a scream, dread snaking around her heart and lungs like smoke, choking her. Her face cracked and she felt blood leak out from her neck. Her fingers clawed for the phone and dialed Taylor then lowered herself back onto the bed, half lying on her cardboard Jay. 

Taylor stumbled in and turned the lights on, making Harleen snap at her. The other woman chuckled at the cut-out and shut the lights back off. Her dressing was half off, so Taylor pulled it gently the rest of the way, swiping something sticky along the gash. The eye didn’t have a bandage on it, so Taylor just dabbed something along it that made it feel better and helped her sit up. 

“What time is it?” she groaned out, wiping her good eye with her good arm. 

“Going on nine o’clock,” Taylor muttered back, walking out the bedroom door. 

“I have to go to work,” she whispered to no one. _I have to go to work!_

Her stomach was alive with butterflies as she sat forward on the side of the bed and gasped for air when her side cramped. She remembered then the punch she had taken in the ribs and tentatively pulled the side of her top up. 

It was as purple as her face probably was, with scrapes and cuts in the disgusting bruise. 

When she sighed it stabbed again, so she rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth to stand, rushing to the bathroom as much as she could to assess the damage on her face. Thankfully no one had touched the note on the mirror, but she almost screamed in horror when she saw her reflection. 

The entire side of her face was purple, all the way down to her jaw, where the bandage from her neck just about touched. She looked like someone had hit her with a truck. Tears spilled from her eyes as she left the bathroom and grabbed her make-up. But when the salt-water reached the cut on her cheek the pain made her knees give out, slamming her into the wood, and she started to sob. 

“Woah woah woah!” Taylor cried, hurrying over to her and helping her stand. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Harleen twisted away from her, crying out as her side split. Her face burned from the tears as Taylor tried to help her stand again so she used the other woman’s white shirt to gingerly wipe her face dry. Taylor made a noise but didn’t stop her. 

“I look like a wraith,” Harleen cried, forcing the lump in her throat away and pulling out her foundation. She heard Taylor laugh then she was taking the makeup from her. 

“Let me help, girl,” she muttered, sitting Harleen on the toilet and kneeling in front of her. 

It was half past ten by the time Taylor was done, and although it was far from perfect, the purple was muted and her eyes were popping; it looked a lot better than it did. 

Taylor put everything back in the little purse and helped her stand, bringing her over to the couch where they had her work clothes out for her, along with a gorgeous pair of sparkly white Louboutin’s. 

“A present, from Jay. After he heard what happened he was . . . upset, and thought you might like a little extra something,” she handed Harleen a note too. 

_Harley, come see me first thing. J_. There were splotches on the heavy paper, and when Harleen realized they were tears she started crying all over again. 

“Upset is probably too soft a word to use,” Taylor whispered to her, smiling. 

“Did he break anything?” Harleen asked, sniffling, and an image of the knee she shattered came into her head. 

“Not that I know of.” 

_He’s giving me more things. This is too much; does he think he can buy me?_

The present had her head hurting more and she stripped in the middle of the living room to get changed faster. Taylor didn’t turn away, just helped her bend over to get her skirt and stockings on. When they got to her shirt though Taylor saw the grotesque bruise on her ribs and swore. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked as she rushed over to her ever-present first aid kit. 

“I just saw it this morning,” she winced and sat down on the couch. 

Taylor came back and pressed her fingers along her side, sending stars behind Harleen’s eyes at the pain. “You have two broken ribs, woman,” the doctor laughed. “You’re tougher than I thought you were.” 

“Thanks,” Harleen muttered. 

The woman turned to her kit then stopped, looking at the psychiatrist, “We’re . . . good, right?” she whispered, looking at her with big eyes. Harleen nodded, but didn’t return the smile Taylor gave her. 

_I still don’t know if I like you, but I definitely don’t trust you. Sure though, we’re good._

She pulled out a huge tensor bandage and got Harleen to stand, lifting her arms up as high as she could and wrapping her so tight she empathized with 18th century Victorian women. It felt much better when she was finished though, even if she couldn’t breathe properly. 

The purple shirt slipped on easily, and the psychiatrist sighed in relief. Then the prospect of explaining what happened once she got to work occurred to her. When she asked Taylor she didn’t have any idea’s either, so she shrugged and decided to just tell the truth. 

Harleen looked in the messy mirror and told Taylor to meet her in the car. She needed several deep breaths before she had the courage to throw on her long white coat, grab her keys and walk out of the building. The drive seemed short, the walk even shorter. Her stomach roiled as Taylor walked with her up to the security gate, hobbling beside her like she was an old woman. The woman took her by surprise with an unexpected hug and told her to call if she needed anything. The hug wasn’t reciprocated. 

Harleen found herself wondering if she actually gave a shit about the brunette or if it was more wanting to get on Jay’s good side. _I think I’m gunna be the only one on his good side after he sees me._

She walked down the hallway, her expensive shoes clicking on the tile, steeling herself for the questions as she went into the lunchroom to drop her bag off. 

Seven people asked her what had happened, one threatened to throw her in a straitjacket if she didn’t go home voluntarily, but she sweet-talked her way out of it all, telling everyone that it looked worse than it was and she was fine and was getting away with it. 

Until she ran into Joan. Cursing, Harleen threw on a smile despite the strain it put on the gash in her face. 

“Harleen!” Joan all but screamed, rushing over to her and sending the papers in her arms flying. “Oh my god what happened?” the other woman was trying to get her to sit down in a chair and Harleen could feel her temper flaring. _I just want to see Jay! Leave!_

“I’m fine, really. I went for a walk last night when I shouldn’t have,” she laughed, which sent stabs of pain along her ribs. Internally she was screaming in Joan’s face to go away. 

“Why are you even here? Go home oh my goodness, or better yet go to a hospital,” Joan was already pushing her back towards the door, which was hurting her shoulder and her ribs. _Why so pushy?!_ She twisted away painfully and took a step back. 

“I’m really fine, Joan. I just didn’t want to sit at home alone all day today,” she started backing away. 

“You don’t have family you can have over to look after you?” 

“No, actually, I have to go though, I’m already late for my first session, sorry,” she turned and started down the hallway. 

“Who with?” Joan asked, all the warmth in her voice gone. 

She turned as she was walking, skipping backwards and acting like she didn’t hear the ice in her voice. “With Jay,” she called, turning and immediately cornering to avoid her reply. 

The guard gave her a sympathetic look when she reached the common room and buzzed her in, where Jay was waiting in his straitjacket. He was cuffed, waist and legs, to the chair, which was bolted to the floor. _What did you do to get strapped down?_

His jaw dropped when he turned and saw her and his face twisted into an ugly mix of fury and guilt. 

“ _Harley_ . . .” he started, leaning towards her as she walked closer. The cameras felt like they had spotlights on the two of them as she sat down across from him and took her glasses gingerly off her swollen face. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, avoiding eye contact. Her stomach was rolling so much she wanted to puke on her new Louboutin’s. 

“Are you okay? What happened? Why weren’t the boys with you? Why were you _alone?_ Did they say who they were with? What did they want with you?” The questions poured out of him one after the other and he was getting increasingly loud until she raised her hand to stop him. 

“Jay, I’m fine, really. I just went for a walk by myself; I wanted to see the city. I forgot I wasn’t in Metropolis anymore,” she gave him a pained smile. 

“You don’t look fine,” he growled deep in his throat, closing his eyes. _He can’t even look at me_. She didn’t reply, just picked at her nails nervously. He wrenched himself around violently in his jacket and cursed, “I’m going to fucking _skin someone alive_ for what they did to you. God _damnit!_ ” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, shrugging and not knowing where to look. 

“What?” he snapped. “ _Sorry?_ Don’t be _sorry!_ ” he rolled his neck and snarled at the steel table, dropping his head down to smash on it. “You must be as fucked as I am. This isn’t your fault; it’s those damn inbred fucks I sent to protect you. Lot of good that did,” he laughed. “I should just leave you alone. Look at what they did to you, my pretty little Harley,” he whispered to her, lifting his head to see her face. _Leave me?_ Her stomach twisted so violently it knocked the wind out of her. Jay growled and strained again in the confines of his jacket, which she heard rip a little as he pulled. He sighed at her and his face was anguish in its purest form. 

“Please, Jay no, no don’t do that. Don’t leave me,” she reached a hand across the table and he stretched forward then her palm was on his cheek and he was rubbing his face on it. His skin was as soft as she dreamed it would be. She cupped his perfect jaw and ran her thumb over his cheekbone. “Don’t leave me, Mr. J,” she whispered. He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Thank you, by the way, for all the presents. I don’t know if I can accept it all though, it’s a bit much,” she whispered. “But these shoes,” she laughed and stuck her leg out, showing it off to him. 

He peeked over the table, keeping contact with her hand, and grinned at it. “You’re very welcome, and you _are_ accepting all of it,” he whispered, leaning away, Harleen caught him by the collar when her fingertips were about to leave his skin. He chuckled and leaned his chest on the table so she could keep a hand on him. _This is dangerous; someone is going to see us touching like this_. She couldn’t remember why she ever cared though. “You need it. Just like you need to learn how to stay safe in this fucking place,” he tilted his head forward and rested it back on the table, rolling it back and forth across the steel. Harleen moved her hand to run through his green hair. “I’m going to have a conniption if I have to hear something like that again.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Well, no, you _clearly_ can’t . . . I’m putting you in danger while I’m locked up here . . .” he trailed off, lifting his head and watching her face. 

“Well, when are you getting out?” she asked stupidly. 

He deadpanned. “Harley, you know as well as I do that I’m never getting _released_.” 

She lifted her hand to his throat, trading words for the feeling of his skin beneath hers. Her fingers cupped behind his neck and Jay sighed deeply, eyes closed and head leaning into her touch. 

“You _are_ getting out of here,” she whispered, hoping the cameras wouldn’t hear her. Jay’s blue eyes flew open and he twisted his head to kiss the palm of her hand, leaving his lips to linger on her skin. “Thank you, for not listening to me about sending gifts,” her half stifled grin hurt her face. 

“Well, that’s one of my many endearing traits, Harley Quinn” he chuckled, pushing his face into her palm like a puppy wanting attention. 

“Why do you call me that?” she asked, rubbing his cheek again with her thumb. 

The door slamming open made Harley jump and scramble to sit back at the table. Jay snarled like a dog as Jeremiah and Joan strode in with nearly ten guards behind them. 

“Stand, _Jackson_ ,” Joan commanded, waving a tall guard over to undo his shackles. Jay stared at her, eyes narrowed and mouth in a sneer. He looked like he was beating her face in his mind and stood while keeping that intimidating contact. Then his eyes flicked up to look at Harleen when a guard walked over and buried a fist in his stomach. He half cried out half cawed when the air was shoved from his chest. 

“Hey!” Harleen screamed, sending her chair flying as she stood and rushed to Jay’s aid. Jay who was cackling and wheezing as the guard unlocked him. 

“Oh oh oh! Here we go, finally some excitement in here!” Jay wheezed out, then starting to hum a tune and laughing as they manhandled him. 

“ _Back away_ , Doctor Quinzel!” Jeremiah shouted at her, glaring and raising a finger to point in her face. “You’re lucky I don’t fire you right here on the spot, you’re being given the benefit of the doubt, take it graciously and go wait in Joan’s office,” he was in her face, finger an inch from her nose and face stern as stern can be. Harleen felt her heart pounding in her chest and turned to look at Jay in desperation; who launched himself, unchained and straitjacket-free at Jeremiah, snarling and snapping. Joan screamed and so did Harleen and the tall guard leaped after him, missing the Joker as his white hands slammed around Jeremiah Arkham’s throat. _How the fuck did he get that straitjacket off?!_ The two of them dropped, rolling on the dirty floor and Jay’s cackle sent chills along her skin as he strangled Mr. Arkham. Harleen found herself rooting for the attacker and she almost smiled at the scene before her. Joan was still screaming as the guards tore the laughing Jay off Jeremiah, who had handprints already forming on his fleshy neck. 

Jay was cackling and Jeremiah was coughing. Then the guards threw him on the ground and someone pulled out a taser and shot him with it. His body convulsed as he fought it, turning and crawling grotesquely towards the guard like a spider as his limbs kept spasming. His laugh was turned into an eerie hum because of his jaw shutting from the taser. 

“Jay! Stop!” she screamed at him, trying to get around the huge expanse of back blocking her way. “Move!” she screamed, trying to shove him and having as much success as pushing on the brick wall behind her. The guard shoved her back, hitting her shoulder and making her cry out in pain. 

Three of them heaved him up; needles still embedded in his back from the gun, and shackled him with black handcuffs that looked like they could hold an elephant still. His head rolled languidly when someone pulled the needles free and wrenched his arms behind him. The room was silent as she watched them march him out; her heart was pounding so hard she was lightheaded. _What the hell is happening right now?_

“Harley!” Jay called to her, peeking around the guards to smile strangely at her. He looked serene even though they both knew how much trouble they were in. Jay cackled at the look on her face and rolled his head back to keep weird upside-down eye contact with her. “I'll see you soon, sugar!” and then the laugh was fading down the hallway and she was alone with her bosses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and kind comments! I'm overwhelmed with everyone's enthusiasm for this story :) I'm so happy you're all enjoying it as much as I am! Sorry this was a little late, much love<3


	4. Plans

“Sit down, _Doctor_ ,” Joan barked at her. 

She sat, cradling her side, which was aching horribly from her panicked breathing. Jeremiah walked in behind her, much to the distaste of the nurses that had looked at him. Apparently he had damage to his windpipe from Mr. J’s vicious attack. They forced him to wear a neck brace until he went to the hospital. It looked hilarious on him. 

Three guards were fired on the spot after Jay was dragged out, and more were being investigated. No one except Harleen was happy that he had gotten out of that jacket. She was impressed. And she finally got to have a look at those hands. They were strong and pale and had veins running along the backs of them. When her thoughts started wandering to what they must feel like grabbing and touching her she had to force her attention back to the severe brunette in front of her. 

“Harleen Quinzel,” Joan started, pulling a binder onto her small desk and slapping it down. The florescent lights above them were already starting to give the little doctor a headache. “Twenty-five years old and one of the most highly praised psychiatrists to grace our humble halls,” sarcasm dripped from her lips. “Why did you come here, Harleen?” Joan leaned forward as Jeremiah sat beside her, her face was venomous. 

“I came to study,” she said, matching her look. 

“Study?” she laughed. “Is that what you call this? Groping and flirting with patients is _studying_?” 

“I’m not doing either of those things,” she lied, lowering her eyes and trying to convince herself she was going to be fine. _I’m more worried about Jay._ God only knew what they were going to do to him for attacking the Director. The thought sent a snake of anxiety through her already paining guts. 

“Nice try, but fortunately we have the evidence,” Joan glared at her. “We know you’re not behaving like this with any other patients, and we know that this isn’t Jackson’s first time pulling a stunt like this to get back out into Gotham.” 

_What?_

“What?” she choked out, _He’s done this before?_

“Oh, you thought you were the first? He’s a manipulative, homicidal psychopath; you’re what, the fourth?” 

She looked at Jeremiah who nodded curtly in his brace. It made the fat on his neck bulge. 

“The fourth, Harleen. Four women who fell under that gaze too. Want to know what happened to them?” 

“They got fired?” she almost rolled her eyes. 

“He killed them,” Joan said, looking at her with judgmental eyes. “Jackson seduced them and persuaded them to bring him weapons so he could escape. When they did bring him something, knives, tasers, or one moron brought him a gun, he killed them with it and made a break for it. He’s not in here because he made some jokes in bad taste, Harleen. He’s in here because he’s a deranged murderer,” she was looking at her, eyebrows raised, but the psychiatrist didn’t know what to say. 

_He killed four other doctors?_ She could feel her heart beat in her face; her mind was flying through the possibilities. _Is Jay going to kill me?_ Breathing was getting hard. No. He wouldn’t. _They didn’t have what we have. He saved my life. Why would he save me and buy me a new home if he’s just going to kill me?_ She was furious that Joan thought she was just someone Jay was manipulating. They were more than that. They cared about each other. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, deciding to go the accepting route. They didn’t need to see how mad she was, and maybe they would let her out of here faster. The small room was making her claustrophobic and her anger was making it worse. 

“Don’t be sorry, just smarten the hell up,” she said condescendingly. Harleen had to take a deep breath so she didn’t strangle _her_. “You have Batman to thank for Jackson not being a part of what happened to you the other night,” her hand motioned at her beaten face. “It would’ve been a lot worse if our Joker had’ve gotten his hands on you.” 

Harleen could almost feel her brain short circuit. 

“Oh my God, you didn’t just _say that_ ,” she laughed, then took a breath to explain but just laughed harder. Her side was splitting and her eyes were sending tears down to sting her face. But still she laughed. Hysterical giggles that made her feel like the Clown Prince himself. 

“Harleen?” 

Joan’s voice sobered her. “Jay was the one who saved me, don’t’cha know?” She lurched forward, giggling, and relished the bewildered face in front of her. “I told him not to; you have that on camera too actually. But he was worried about me. And while he had people coming to help me, Batman never showed his face while I bled in the street. I know how dangerous Jay is, but I’m not going to give him a weapon, I’m not going to help him escape, and yes, I do have a soft spot for him. But it’s platonic. I care for him. I want to help him. Is that not what this profession is about?” She scoffed. “And Jeremiah is not my fault, you need to re-evaluate your security measures, because just last week he got out of his cuffs and attacked Floyd,” Joan narrowed her eyes at Harleen, who glared right back. “Today was out of line you’re right, but it will never happen again.” 

“Very nice speech,” Jeremiah’s croak beside her made her jump. He was holding his braced throat where purple bruises were already creeping up. They probably made quite the pair sitting next to each other. 

“Jackson _saved_ you.” It wasn’t a question, the look she was getting said more than words could. _I shouldn’t have told her that._ Joan took a big sigh and shook her head. “You’re damn right it won’t happen again, because from this day forward one of our most respected security guards will be joining your sessions to ensure no _inappropriate_ behaviour will be occurring,” she beckoned to someone through the little window in her door and it opened. 

A man walked in before she could answer; tall and strikingly handsome, save for the prosthetic hook he had poking from the end of his left arm. He gazed at her on his way in and nodded to Joan. 

“Aaron Cash, this is Doctor Quinzel. Harleen, this is Aaron.” 

“A _babysitter?_ ” she cringed. 

“You’re god damn right a babysitter,” Joan slapped her hand down on the table. “You’ve been here less than a month and you’re already committing malpractice. I could sue you, you realize? You’re rewarding bad behaviour and beginning a relationship with a mentally unwell man. Some might even say you’re taking advantage of him,” she raised her hand when Harleen opened her mouth to protest. “Who do you think a judge would believe?” Joan laced her fingers in front of her and leaned on her elbows. “You really need to understand, the _only_ reason I’m not having you escorted off the property right now is because of the sterling recommendation you had from your previous employers and your phenomenal GPA. And you're only being able to continue counselling Jackson because of the progress that's been made when you're not fawning over him. I’m giving you a second chance here. Don’t fuck it up. You won't get another. Take your chaperone graciously, and go do your job,” the woman stared at her, waiting for a reply, but Harleen didn’t have one. 

They were right, she did fuck up. For the most dangerous man in Gotham City. Her head was spinning as she stood to leave, straightening her white coat and fidgeting as she tried to decide if she wanted to say something to the two of them. Her anger was flaring in her chest at the whole situation and Joan was looking at her expectantly. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, bowing her head and ducking out when she wanted to scream and hit things. Aaron followed her, so she made a b-line for the ladies room while emotional vomit creeped up her throat. The door clicked shut behind her just as the first angry tears started to fall. She twisted the lock and slid down the door, heaving with sobs and telling herself to calm down. Truth was though; she was a doctor first and foremost. She loved her work. Loved studying people, figuring out their issues and helping them. It was what she worked her whole life for. Arkham was what she had been dreaming of in Metropolis. And Jay had almost just cost her that. 

“Fuck.” When she sucked in a breath it caught and stuttered, and the tears poured from her in waves. It was a tsunami on her jacket. She lifted her good hand and rubbed her face, ignoring the cuts and bruises and covering her eyes, blocking the world. 

_What am I doing?_ She shook her head at herself, wondering how she had fallen so hard for someone like Jay in the time that they’d had. He was insane, manipulative, violent, shady, powerful, and she couldn’t get enough of him. Harleen started wishing she could just leave Gotham, go back to doing mundane therapy for nursing homes and hospitals in Metropolis. _But I wasn’t happy there, everyone knew it. I was a walking tragedy._ And so was Jay. He was a cacophony of insanity. He was fascinating, everything she wanted to study about the human mind was inside of that mesmerizing brain of his, and she had barely scratched the surface. 

The image of her walking down to his cell to take him far away flashed behind her eyes; where they could run from their problems and from Arkham and Gotham and Batman. Run far and never look back and live happily ever after. But Jay wouldn’t want that. He lived for the conflict. For the power and discord and anarchy. And she was never one for confrontation. She was the meek psychiatrist with an obsession for psychopaths. 

_I keep this up with Jay, I’m going to lose my job. Maybe even my life._ She rested her head against the back of the door, taking a deep breath to calm down. The crying had stopped, but her heart was still pounding and her face was stinging from all the tears. _Maybe losing this job wouldn’t be a huge sacrifice to be able to be with Jay._ More images flashed in front of her. Images of her being the Queen to the Joker’s King. His Princess of Crime. Her driving him around in their ridiculous cars and escaping Batman and pranking the mayor and causing havoc. She would be the most feared woman in Gotham. A darker part of her yearned for that. A part of her she thought died with those rebellious teenage years. It was crying out to be that partner to the scariest man in Gotham City. To have him wrapped around her little pale finger and be able to behave like the child she never got to be. 

Then her eyes focused on the brown tile of the floor in front of her. A chuckle gurgled up from her belly and she laughed into the stale asylum air. The little doctor could barely hold off some street thugs, let alone battle toe-to-toe with the Bat. 

Using her good arm, she pushed herself off the floor and splashed cold water on her face. Her right hand was going numb in her sling so she shifted it around, wincing at the pain. The swelling in her face was making her look like a beach ball and she rearranged her hair self-consciously, sniffling into the mirror. 

_If Jay and I were out in Gotham and ran into Joan, I wonder who would hit her smug face first._ Her anger flared again and she left the bathroom, replaying her conversation with Ms. Leland over as Aaron stalked behind her. Harleen knew she had no right to be mad, she was in the wrong, but that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t like being caught and condescended. If Jay had’ve seen her performance Joan would probably be in a neck brace too. 

She sniggered at the picture in her head and walked into the common room, letting the door shut in Aaron’s face. 

Floyd was waiting for her; his hands were folded in front of him with his head resting on top. His snores sounded like they were coming from a bear. 

She nudged the table with her Louboutin’s as she sat down and Floyd sat up with a snort. He stared at her, taking her face in, eyes widening. 

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked. The chains on his handcuffs tinkled while he rearranged himself. 

“Gotham is lovely at night,” she mumbled, rubbing her neck sheepishly. 

“Holy shit, what are you doing here? Go home, or to a hospital,” he was giving her that look. Like she was crazy. She rolled her eyes at him. 

“I’m fine, clearly,” she waved her working hand around for good measure. “See? Functioning and everything,” her smile wasn’t reciprocated. Harleen cleared her throat and filed through some of his paperwork. 

A paper caught her eye that hadn’t been there last week. Her eyes widened when she read it. “You assaulted a guard?” her incredulous look seemed to aggravate him. 

He shuffled his arms around, sending his cuffs tinkling again. He looked uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t worry about it? I’m your doctor; it’s my _job_ to worry about it. What happened?” She was severely aware of Aaron lurking in the corner when she almost reached out to console the man in front of her. 

“Harleen, don’t. Worry. About it.” He stared at her with eyes black as coal and a look just as dark. She felt goosebumps break out along her skin and swallowed the lump in her throat. _What is going on with everyone today? I wonder if it’s a full moon._

“Floyd, please,” she begged, letting her nervousness show on her face. 

He slammed his fists into the steel table, making her flinch and jump out of her chair. Aaron was beside her in a second. “You said you would get me my goddamn phonecall, woman!” he yelled, twisting his head and sighing. “Everyone in here is a fucking _liar_ , guess I should’ve seen it coming, especially from someone as naïve as you,” he scoffed and shook his head at her. 

“What are you talking about?” she sat back down and waved Aaron away. 

“Don’t kid with me! You promised!” his voice caught as he choked down a sob, her heartstrings twanged and she scooted her chair around to sit closer to him. 

“That might not be the best idea, Doctor,” Aaron mumbled. She ignored him. 

“Floyd, I swear on my dead father I asked Joan to get you your call,” she whispered softly to him. 

He sniffled grossly and Harleen waved frantically at Aaron to get him a tissue. “Don’t try to guilt me into believing you.” 

“Is it working?” She smirked at him. 

The smile at the corners of his mouth betrayed him, and he lifted his head. Aaron handed her a tissue, and Floyd wiped his nose, looking at her with a sigh. The cut from Jay on the side of his face was still healing. She ran her finger above the scab quickly, rescuing him from the salty drop. “I did try, Floyd,” she whispered. 

“Be that as it may, why didn’t she let me call? Zoe’s all I got left, Harleen,” more tears fell from his brown eyes. “She’s it.” 

“I don’t know. Do you want me to talk to her about it?” Something must’ve shown on her face, because Floyd gave her a look. 

“I can tell you don’t want to do that. What happened, Harleen?” 

The psychiatrist stole a look at Aaron, who was watching like the hawk he was. _Screw it, I feel too bad for him to deny him a little distraction._

“Well, last night I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go for a walk. Ended up getting jumped by three losers and beat up pretty bad,” her half smile almost cracked the scab on her cheek. 

He frowned at her. “Shit, you must’ve given it back to them just as good eh? To get out of there without worse.” The look he gave her was impressed. _I almost don’t want to tell him I was saved._

“Nah, I ended up being rescued like the damsel I apparently am. Some good Samaritan happened by,” she smiled. 

Floyd gave her a look that told Harleen he wasn’t buying it. “It was Batman wasn’t it? You don’t have to be ashamed, it must’ve been an honor,” he smiled mockingly at her. No one in here was a fan of Batman. 

“No.” She snapped a little too quickly. “It wasn’t the Bat, it was just some random do-gooders,” she fiddled with the papers in front of her. Straighten. Fuss. Scratch nose. _I fidget too much when I lie._

“You didn’t even get their names after they saved you?” He narrowed his eyes at her. 

Harleen stared back, trying to decide how she wanted to handle this concern. “Oh they told me but I was a little distracted,” she chuckled and cleared her throat. “How’re you feeling after your incident with the guard, Mr. Lawton?” The change of subject made Floyd sit back and smile at her. 

“I’m fine, Doctor Quinzel. How’s Mr. Arkham’s neck after the Joker throttled him for you?” Harleen gasped so quickly she choked on her own spit, coughing violently. 

_“Excuse me?”_

“Word travels fast around this place. Guards have been spreading it like wildfire; say it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened since Pam bit Joan.” He chuckled at the memory. “Honey, I thought I told you to be careful around that psycho. It could’ve been you he throttled,” he reached out to lay a hand on her but she flinched away and his handcuffs wouldn’t reach her. _Aaron is going to have a field day with me when Floyd is done._

“My relationships with other patients are none of your concern,” she mumbled. “He didn’t do it _for me_. He managed to get his way out of his restraints and Jeremiah was unfortunately close,” she cleared her throat, wondering who could train her to be a better liar. “How’s your face feeling?” _Change the subject change the subject change the subject._

Another look. ‘ _I’m not stupid, Harleen_ ,’ is what it was saying to her. 

“I’ll live, the Joker hits like a woman,” he smirked at her. Harleen knew what he was doing. Any reaction at all would just confirm it for him. _I need to leave._

“Alright Floyd, I’m not feeling well; starting to think I should take your advice and go home,” she smiled at him and tapped her papers straight. 

“It was him wasn’t it?” Concern was pouring off him. It made Harleen anxious to look at. Everyone’s pity was starting to get old. 

“What was who, Mr. Lawton?” she sighed. 

“He saved you, that’s why you’re defending him.” _You’re too smart, dammit._

“I’m not defending anyone." She gave him a tight smile. "Goodbye, Floyd.” 

The nametag on the front of her white coat was bouncing her heart was pounding so bad. Floyd thankfully didn’t say anything while she walked out. Aaron was of course right behind her. 

“I’m gunna just go chart then go home, so, you can leave me be now,” she spun on her new heels and tapped away. He still followed her though, and she had to take a deep breath so she didn’t lose her cool in the middle of the hallway. He continued behind her, walking slow enough he didn't quite catch up. It was making her uneasy. 

“I’m not a fan of being stalked,” she said to him as she slowed and walked beside him. 

“Not stalking Ma’am, just doing my job,” his voice was as stiff as his posture. It was pissing her off. _I wonder if he knows if Jay is alright._

“So, am I going to be continuing my therapy with Jay tomorrow as scheduled or has Joan changed her mind and had me removed as his therapist?” _Good. That sounded good._ Her inner self nodded in approval. 

“Patient Boxam has undergone a psychological assessment which has shown he requires an increase in his anti-psychotic medications. The option of ECT is being investigated as well after his attack on the Director. Along with lobotimization due to his lifelong sentence and lack of potential for recovery.” 

Harleen tripped on the tiles. _Shock therapy and a lobotomy. Jay you fucked up._ Her heart wasn’t beating. 

“Oh,” was all she could choke out. _I need to get him out of here._ There would be nothing left but mush by the time Jeremiah was done with him. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that connection between you and Lawton,” Aaron mumbled beside her. 

She turned on him and stopped. “What?” 

“I saw the intimacy there too; it’s good to know that you aren’t just playing Boxam like this. But it doesn’t bode well; the reputation you’re getting for yourself.” 

_Seriously?_ As if there wasn’t enough to worry about. The sides of her head were pounding so bad she just wanted to lie on the cold tiles and never move. 

“There is nothing going on between me and Floyd, I don’t even think he likes me very much,” she shook her head at all the madness. 

“That’s exactly what someone who was interested in their patient would say, we’ll just see what Jackson’s opinion is on the matter,” he smirked at her. 

_He’s trying to get a reaction out of me. He wouldn’t do that._ Her heart sank into her stomach regardless, and she started breaking out in a cold sweat. The last thing she wanted Jay to think was that she wasn’t genuine with her feelings. God knows what he would do. The manipulator never liked being manipulated. 

“Do whatever you want; I have nothing going on with any of the patients here.” Was her voice trembling? “Watch your beloved camera footage if you want proof,” she turned and fled into her report room to drop her folders off. He followed her. “Leave me _alone_ , I’m just charting then going home,” she pushed him out of the room. He grumbled something but finally left. 

_“A fucking lobotomy!?”_ she whispered to herself, rolling her eyes back in her head. _That can’t happen_. Panic was reaching up her throat to choke the air from her. Plans started forming in her head as she hastily charted on the incident with Jay and her chat with Floyd. She made sure to include the throttling of Jeremiah Arkham and to e-mail their compliance organization for a review of their safety measures. It would at least distract them temporarily from Jay. As soon as an e-mail was sent the board had to conduct an investigation. And during an investigation no procedures or medication changes could occur. They would know it was her who reported them, but it didn’t matter. She needed time. 

She logged out of the program and almost ran from the room. The cellphone Taylor had given her was still in her bag, so she took it out and dialed with vibrating fingers the number that was sub-labelled ‘Driver’. The name Mo popped up as it rang. 

_"Yes?"_ An Asian voice asked. 

“It’s Harleen, can you come pick me up at work? I’d like to go home,” she whispered to the hallway. 

_"Yes yes,"_ he hung up. She hung up too and dashed for the elevator. 

Her shoes were painfully loud tapping across the lobby and when she finally reached to door her key card wouldn’t stay still in her fingers. The edges of her vision were blurry and dark once she got outside, so she sat on the step before she fell. The fresh air wasn't enough to dispel the tightness in her windpipe so she pulled at her collar to get more air. The fibers of the pretty purple shirt ripped and a button took flight as she yanked it away from her. Nothing mattered though, Jay’s face was just flashing behind her eyeballs. 

His smile, those eyes; his hair that reminded her of neon lights and hands that made her want to swoon. They were going to turn him into nothing. No one. They were going to strip away his identity because they could. Fury rocked her, and along with the panic she almost vomited on the concrete. The phone was still clutched in her fingers so she dialed Mo again, but he didn’t pick up. A bottle of painkillers from Taylor was in her purse so she shook two pills out and dry swallowed them. Then she stood, slowly so she didn’t break more ribs, and paced, focusing on the _tap tap tap tap_ of her shoes. 

_If there's a way to get him out and not implicate myself. . ._ The thought made her stop pacing. 

Just then Mo pulled up in a stunning Rolls Royce. It was painted matte black with shiny gold highlights, and took her breath away. She didn’t miss the license plate that said HARLEY. If she wasn’t so distraught she would’ve been excited. 

A man, who must be Mo, stepped out and walked around the front to open her door for her. He was as sharply dressed as the car in a black suit and gold tie. _Fancy_. 

“Ms. Quinn, it’s an honor, I’ve heard lovely things,” he took her hand and kissed it gingerly, then motioned her to the car. She gave a quick smile back. The suicide door opened by itself as they approached and the interior was a stunning white. She had never seen anything as beautiful in her life. 

“This is incredible,” she whispered, to which Mo gave her a laugh and helped her into the luxurious car. She almost wanted to take her shoes off before she stepped in. The seats were white leather trimmed with black, and the ceiling was like a night sky, lit up by special lights. There was even a little bar built into the back of one of the seats. She helped herself to a bottle as Mo drove out of the facility. 

_I wonder who saw me get into this thing_. Harleen shook her head and took a chug straight from the bottle, enjoying the burn that settled her nerves a bit. 

The gifts were nice to have, and distracting, but she still felt cheap deep down for enjoying them so much. She wasn’t sure if Jay thought he could buy her loyalty. The treatment was boosting her confidence in her plan though, reassuring her that he wasn’t just going to murder her after she helped him. If she could save him from this, he would be eternally grateful. She knew he would be. 

They were driving slow, and Mo turned on some classical music that had Harleen laying her head back and breathing deep. She wished the actual condo would be ready by now; she was itching to get out of her crappy apartment. With it's broken pipes and nosy neighbours and sketchy location. She felt like everyday she was there it was a prison. Likely they were never going to let her walk alone again either. Which was a troubling thought. She always enjoyed her nightly walks in Metropolis. But then again no one had tried to bash her skull in. 

As they pulled up she got out herself, struggling with the suicide door with only one hand. She stepped onto the concrete and thanked Mo for the ride, watching the door shut itself. He tooted the surprisingly quiet horn at her and drove off, the engine humming nicely. 

A big burly man in body armor opened the front door for her and walked with her to the elevator. _Subtle_. The guard thankfully backed off when she stepped onto the elevator, after he pushed the button for her. She rolled her eyes and leaned her good shoulder against the side, breathing deeply and thinking. The elevator tinged though and Taylor was waiting for her. 

The other woman unlocked the door and followed her in, medical kit in hand. Harleen pushed past her, kicking her shoes off and landing heavily on the couch. Her side exploded in pain, but she ignored it. _It’s been too long of a day. I don’t even care._

“How was your day, honey?” Taylor asked teasingly as she kneeled in front of the psychiatrist and whipped open her box of tortures. 

“It was pretty terrible, as I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” she muttered, sitting forward and cupping her head with her good hand. Taylor gave her a confused look. “You haven’t heard from Jay?” The panic started creeping back up her throat. 

“No,” Taylor sat back on her heels, throwing a look to one of the men behind her. “We thought he had his session with you today, so none of us bothered him to check in,” her face was contorted with horror. “Harleen, what happened?” she laid a hand on Harleen’s knee. 

She cleared her throat, trying to knock that stupid lump out of her windpipe. “We got too touchy feely today, just lost ourselves, and forgot about the cameras,” she had to take another breath. Her lungs were full of water. If he hadn’t texted them, they must be keeping him pretty busy with other things. “They barged in, Jeremiah and Joan, and broke us up, took Jay away. But somehow Jay got out of his jacket and attacked Mr. Arkham. He choked him then got himself tased and hauled out,” another break for a breath. “They threatened to fire me if I didn’t knock it off and assigned me Aaron Cash to supervise my sessions from now on.” 

“Oh my god,” Taylor whispered. She sat down on the floor, looking beaten. 

“There’s more,” she said under her breath, not even wanting to repeat the next part. Her words caught in her throat and she coughed. Tears started to sting her eyes. 

“What else?” Men behind her were making phone calls, speaking loud enough she could hear them but quiet enough she couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

“Cash said that they did a psych review on him, and that he had a med increase, and the possibility of ECT and a lobotomy were on the table,” her voice cracked. Taylor laughed a little. Harleen stared at her in shock. “Taylor, we need to get him _out_ of there!” she grabbed the woman’s hand with her own and shook her. Taylor ripped her arm away. 

“You should’ve called before you even left the building, Harleen,” her voice was cold. “We aren’t breaking him out, you nutjob, you just about lost your job today. Is that not enough to scare you?” she scoffed and reached for the bandage on her neck. Harleen flinched away. 

“I was basically in shock. And we are getting him out of there. Is that not always the plan when he gets into a mess like this? I’ve heard at least three reports of the Joker being broken out from Arkham in like the last year!” Taylor ripped the dressing off her neck quickly, snubbing her ugly lip up at it. She reached for another one, ignoring Harleen. “ _Taylor!_ ” she screeched, panic sent her voice through three octaves. 

The other woman looked at her and sighed. “Harley, that was when he was on minimum security. After what he did to Robin. . .he’s on the _tenth_ floor you realize? He’s so heavily guarded, there’s no way,” she put her hand over Harleen’s. 

“Taylor,” she ripped her hand away. “You don’t get to make that decision.” Her chest was pounding and she was breathing so hard her chest was burning. “He’s getting out, whether you think it’s impossible or not. I’m not going to let him rot in there after they turn him into pudding!” 

“You don’t know him,” she gave Harleen the ‘you’re insane’ look. 

“Which is why I want to get him out of there so I can actually get to know him,” she spat. True, she really didn’t know Jay, but she knew enough that she didn’t want to lose him when she was just starting to. “Please.” 

Taylor sighed, defeated. “What’s your plan then?” 

After Taylor had re-done her dressings Harleen had her hunt down blueprints for the Asylum, as well as every file on other successful escape attempts. It took her more than three hours, and Harleen had gone and gotten herself good and anxious by the time she came back. The stack of papers in her hands was almost three feet tall. 

They laid them out and went over everything together, Taylor was grudging about the entire thing, expressing her distaste until Harleen threatened to tell Jay about how uncooperative she was being. She could understand her hesitation though, she was sure Jay wasn’t the nicest guy to her whenever he was out. But this wasn’t her call, and Harleen wasn’t Taylor. She wanted Jay with her day and night. She wanted to get to know the fascinating mess of a man before they erased him off the planet. _I have to_. 

“Joan’s keycard,” Harleen pointed to a point on the blueprint plastered on the table in front of her. “Does it open Jay’s hallway?” Taylor lifted her head from her hands so quickly she must’ve been sleeping. 

“No, I don’t know, that sounds like more of a you question. You _are_ the one working there.” 

_True_. She squinted at her roses as she tried to think back to who buzzed them in the first time. 

“I can’t remember,” her mind was fuzzy from all the thinking. So far they determined the route they could take out of Jay’s cell. There was a service elevator for the morgue below the medbay, which was only a quick dart across the hallway. And from the morgue it was as simple as getting him onto a gurney then into a truck. It was doable, but there would be guards in the way. And cameras. Harleen knew of a chemical compound called etorphine that could be used in small doses with some opiates and anti-anxiety medication that caused immediate unconsciousness. It would need to be administered as a liquid compound straight into the bloodstream though, which meant they needed a dartgun, or have someone sneak up and stick them with it. They sided with the dartgun, and Pete was already searching for one. _I hope I can shoot it myself_. If she was even allowed to have it; Taylor was insisting that she have barely anything to do with it, as she did intend to keep her job after Jay got out. 

All they needed now was a way to access Jay’s hallway, someone to cause a distraction (a few of their many thugs maybe), and someone who knew how to loop the camera footage in the building so that Harleen wouldn’t be implicated. Joan’s keycard was the solution to the first, and as for the last, Harleen herself knew how to do it, but Taylor was insisting it was too dangerous to do herself. 

“I’ll see if she takes it off her jacket tomorrow when she goes for lunch. I know that she doesn’t wear her lab coat down to the break room, so if she doesn’t remove it, it should still be in her office when she leaves. If not, then I’ll have to, I don’t know, hack into her damn computer,” she sat back from the table and rubbed her neck lightly. Her scab was itching from whatever Taylor put on it. _I need a break_. “What time is it?” 

“Nearing one,” a man answered. She didn’t even care who it was. Until it was Jay who answered her she wasn’t about to stop. 

“I need a little breaky-poo,” she mumbled to Taylor, who sat up too quickly. 

“Harleen,” came a sleepy call. “Can I ask you something?” Taylor’s voice was so thick from sleep she wanted to just put her to bed on the sofa. 

“Yeah, shoot.” 

“Why are you even bothering? With Jay? I mean he’s a psychopath, and has shown no love for you other than sending you nice things and some witty banter in the past few weeks. What’s driving you?” 

She chewed on that for a minute. “I don’t really know, to be totally honest. It’s like, he’s a puzzle, and he just needs to be solved. I feel connected with him; comfortable. I don’t get that with very many people. And my entire life, I’ve lived like the professional I am. Never really had a childhood. I was the first person in my family to go to university and make something of myself, so I feel like I have to focus on that before anything else.” Her father’s face floated just behind her vision, his kind eyes smiling at her and telling her to have more fun. “I moved away from my hometown for my job in Metropolis. That and after my father died everyone turned to me to play mother. Even my own," she paused for a minute, those were dark times in her life. Not ones she talked about lightly. "But then there’s Jay. He has nothing, but he owns Gotham. It’s his playground. He’s a King. But had no responsibility. His very name is the opposite of what I stand for, and honestly, it is so refreshing,” Taylor was watching her with a look she couldn’t pinpoint. “He’s bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I had, and I can’t lose that when I’m just starting to enjoy it. He’s showing me that life is too short to be spending it the way I have been. He’s carefree, and I’ve been the most careful woman on the planet. He’s my polar opposite, and. . . I’m envious.” She cleared her throat and stood, all this emotional talk was getting to her. She smiled at the expression on Taylor’s face. A bottle of Jack was sitting on the counter, so she scooped it up and made for the door. 

“Where are you going?” Taylor asked, panic in her voice. She looked like she was about to launch into a flying tackle to stop her. 

“I’m going to the roof, I just need some air. I’ll take a boy with me,” Harleen smiled and walked out the door in her barefeet. She beckoned one of the burlap sacks standing outside the door and made for the stairs. Her legs and ribs were aching from sitting for so long. 

It was only two floors to the roof but her guard was huffing by the time they reached the top. She found herself out of breath from her broken ribs. A swig of whisky made her feel a little better. 

“We need to start doing Pilates or something eh?” she joked to the man. She offered the bottle to him. “Some?” He gave her a red faced glare in return. “No then.” 

She pushed out into the fresh air, the wind immediately felt nice on her skin. Gravel crunched under her feet as she skipped to the lip of the building. Gotham spread out like a tapestry under the cloudy sky. 

She could see a good chunk of the city, but her building wasn’t high enough to see around the few other high-rises that surrounded her. Harleen sucked back another shot and spit it over the edge into the street. She peeked down after it and wanted to think she could hear it splatter on the pavement. Then another shot and she perched herself on the lip of the building. The side of her ribs pinched and ached as she wiggled up. Her legs swung over almost by themselves and dangled over the long drop. The alcohol was already starting to numb her. _Perfect_. 

“I like this feeling,” she said to no one as she wiggled her toes in the open air. It felt free. It didn’t matter to the air that she was a doctor. Didn’t matter that she was trying to break the law. Nothing mattered. 

She scooted her bum closer to the edge so she could rest her feet up against the side of the bricks. 

“Miss?” 

The guard. He had slipped her mind. “I’m fine, just enjoying the height,” she called back. The little doctor actually adored heights. Climbing had been a favorite past time as a child, but her father had always been the one to take her. After he died it just made her sad to go with her vodka bottle of a mother. She laughed at the bottle of liquor in her own hand. 

“Miss you’re making me uncomfortable, you’re already injured. Please come back down,” his voice was wavering, like he was nervous. _Should be. I can end your life along with mine in one bum schooch._

“I’m _fine_ ,” she hissed back. “Please go back inside; I’m not going to commit suicide if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

No footsteps crunched on the gravel though, and she rolled her eyes. “I bet if your boss was here he wouldn’t let you tell me what to do,” she said to him, twisting to pose alluringly along the ledge. The look he gave her was one of panic. He had no idea what to do. Her laugh was swallowed by the wind as she set the bottle down. The sling on her arm was starting to get in her way, so she reached up and undid the straps holding it to her. She flung it over the edge and into the street. The poor guard watching her had eyes so wide Harleen was afraid they were going to pop out of his head. Then, thankfully, he turned tail and ran back inside. She stood slowly, trying not to use her bad arm. 

“Bye,” she sang to him, stooping to pick up her bottle and drinking deeply. Alcohol wasted no time giving her a head buzz. Being a lightweight had its perks. It took her no more than an hour to get belligerently drunk, which was nice; because most times she drank she was drinking to bury something. It always ended up with the nicest sleeps. She set the bottle down gingerly after another swig and turned to tip toe along the lip. 

Gotham plunged beside her, the lights laid out before her like a runway. She danced along the edge, holding her one arm out to balance her. She didn’t even need the other arm, she always had impeccable balance. The ledge might as well have been ten feet wide; even buzzed she had no issues walking daintily along it. She hummed to herself and spun as she paced, placing her feet exactly where she wanted to as she came around. 

“Harley!” 

The shout knocked her off balance, and she fell to her knees. The bottle of Jack was in front of her so she drank more of it. 

Taylor ripped the bottle from her and whipped it over the edge of the building. Harleen gave a little cry as it went sailing away and some spilled down to sting her neck. 

“What on God’s green Earth do you think you’re doing?” The brunette was right in Harleen’s face, and she almost slugged the scarred woman. 

“Go ‘way,” she slurred, swinging her legs over to sit with her feet brushing the gravel. 

“You can’t do this shit, woman!” Taylor shook her sling-free shoulder, making her wince in pain. 

“Can you not?” she shook her off and looked for her bottle, rolling her eyes and whining when she remembered it was gone. “Rude.” 

“Harley, you can’t do this to us,” Taylor was out of breath. Five other guards were behind her, red-faced and huffing. 

“You guys need to relax,” she shoved Taylor with both hands and struggled to stand back up. “This makes me feel good. Free and whatnot,” the other doctor had a different idea though and tugged her good arm, forcing her to hop down off the ledge. 

“We realize that you’re crazy for Jay and he’s the same for you, but you need to realize he will _kill_ us, if something happens to you while he’s not here to protect you. We know him better than you do, and sorry, but we don’t want to die because you wanted to play on the roof,” her tone dripped with condescension, and Harleen felt her blood pressure spike in anger. _You fucking twat_. 

“And you think I care?” She tore her arm free from Taylor. “You’re here because you work for Jay, yeah?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “So that means you don’t get to tell me what to do, Taylor. And your boss is currently in Arkham, imprisoned and possibly being tortured, all while you’re here talking down to me. Maybe if you worried about Jay this much, he never would’ve been caught in the first place. So back the hell off,” she spat on the gravel beneath their feet for good measure. The look Taylor gave her was downright venomous. “I’m sure if Jay was here he’d have no issues letting me do what I want.” 

Taylor laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re right about that. There isn’t too much our Joker gives a fuck about, let’s hope you’re the exception to that rule. C’mon boys,” she spun and left Harleen on the roof alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, I've been dealing with a crazy amount of personal issues, but here's the next chapter finally! Hope you enjoyed!  
> I will be posting a little more regularly now too ! :)

**Author's Note:**

> DC owns all character names and rights to such and such.


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